Charity's Secrets

by Maya James

  "What about you?" I ask her, letting Justin off the hook. "You have plans after this?"

  "Just my normal family plans."

  She was cheery enough, but still there is a sadness in her voice that she can't hide from another woman. I pick it out without looking for it, but I don't call any attention to it, I won't do that to her. She wants it left alone and that's what I'll do for her, at least for now.

  "Staying at your parents again?" Justin asks.

  "As usual. Christmas breakfast around my parents table, exchanging gifts in front of the family tree."

  "That sounds wonderful," I tell her, and meaning it as I have another moment of missing my family. I do not want to be without Justin, not for a moment of it, but I'd do almost anything to be with my parents in front of the tree tomorrow. I envy Lena for that.

  Enough of that! I motion to Justin with my eyes that it's time for the gift.

  In his very stoic JP tone, he calls over the wait staff and has them remove our dishes and clear the table. We remain politely silent as they work, and thank them when they're done. They show the same nervousness I always see around JP. I don't know if it's that they're familiar with him from past experience, or that they're always nervous around a man in a thirty-thousand dollar suit, but I'll always believe it's because he sweats power. When he's being JP, his aura becomes the color of don't-fuck-with-me!

  After they leave, he becomes Justin once again. "So, since our little Christmas Eve lunch tradition is undergoing some modifications, here's how this next one is going to work."

  I'm so excited to see Lena open what we got her, I'm resisting the urge to just whip it out of his pocket and give it to her myself.

  "Charity wanted to get you something, a gift from us to you."

  We can see the protest developing on her face. I love it—that makes it even better.

  "I explained to her that we have a rule about that, no gifts, no pressure, but she insisted her friendship with you changes that. I can see you don't agree with her blindsiding you with this, and I'm saying—I agree with you."

  Wait! What?

  "So I've decided to blindside you both."

  Justin reaches into his jacket and pulls out not just the box I'd expected, but two of them, placing one in front of Lena, and the other in front of me.

  "This is how this works from now on," he continues, a strong hint of JP in his voice, so that we know not to argue with him. "These are from me to my girls, the most important women in my life. You are not to get me anything in return! From me to you because I want to and because you deserve it."

  I'm gaping at Justin in shock. When I turn to Lena, and she sees the same look on my face that she's wearing herself, that seems to settle her and make the gift acceptable. I have to agree. If they were giving me something, I wouldn't want to accept it without having something to give back—with both of us being surprised by Justin, it only seems fitting.

  All the protest runs out of her face and she melts. It's the sweetest damn thing. Then the excitement hits both of us as we scoop up our gifts, fighting with the wrappings.

  Both boxes say "Tiffany and Co." on them, and my fingers begin to shake. Lena, who is usually much more jaded than I, is stunned. Another look passes between the two of us before we open the boxes, an understanding of our mutual excitement.

  Pendants—diamond pendants!

  Lena holds hers up. It's all diamond forming the letters N-S on hers, and on mine E-W. They're stunning, even if we don't understand the meaning. I'm guessing four carats, give or take, in each pendant. Our glowing, shinning faces say all he needs from us.

  "I'm no idiot," he says. "The two of you look out for me, direct me. You pulled me off the wrong path and put me where I needed to be. You two are my compass—North and South, East and West. I have no direction without you."

  I'm already feeling the emotional swelling in my throat closing in on me.

  "Lena, you are my North and South poles. You are my unchanging, unyielding grounds. You never bend, never move, and I can find my way anytime I look to you."

  Yep, tears from Lena. I knew it was possible, I've seen it before, but not many others have.

  "Charity, you are my East and West. You are the sun that I revolve around. My life rises and sets because of you. You bring me the brightest days, the hottest nights. My world would stop without you."

  Dammit—tears from me, too!

  WHEN WE RETURNED HOME a few hours later, I discovered the romantic evening Justin had in mind for us. While we were out, he had someone come in and rearrange our living room. Now we have an elegant dining table set beside our Christmas tree, overlooking the patio and our view of lower Manhattan.

  Piano music is softly blowing through the spacious suite and there are candles lit. As he promised earlier, there's dinner with a breathtaking view, but I don't see the private chef yet.

  Justin takes my purse and coat, hanging them in the foyer closet for me before he slides off the jacket of his suit and tosses it over the arm of our couch. I watch him slowly unbutton the sleeves of his shirt and then roll them up to his elbows.

  He looks hot as hell, and I quickly wonder if there's a way I could ride his arms. As if he read my mind, he holds out one of them for me to take. "Come keep the chef company," he says, leading me toward the kitchen.

  I'm expecting to find someone at work in there, stirring away like a nut, steam rising from assorted pots, but it's empty when we go in. Justin motions me to a chair, pulling it out from under the kitchen table for me. "Get comfortable," he says through a wide smile. He crosses to a tall cabinet, swings the door open effortlessly, and takes out an apron.

  Oh my God—he's the chef! He's too fucking cute.

  The mostly white, mildly used apron slides over his head and he ties the waist snug around his middle. "Coconut shrimp sound good for a start?"

  "Absolutely," I reply, almost nervously. "Do you need any help?"

  "No. I've got this," he says as he pours oil into a skillet and turns on the heat.

  I watch him work; coating the fantail shrimp, frying them to a golden brown. I'm impressed, there's no point in lying. He had a mango sauce all ready and we began munching while he made parmesan crusted pork chops, risotto, and green beans seasoned with rosemary and thyme.

  At least once, every woman should experience having a gorgeous man in an expensive suit throw on an apron and cook her a dinner. I'm just mush by the time he's done, and I don't know if I want to eat, cry, or spread the food all over his body and lick it off. If I could, I'd do all three. There was such pride in his face, and his attention never once swayed from me. His loving glances linger on me each time long after his eyes have moved on. If he could, Justin would spend his life doing everything for me, which makes me want to do everything for him.

  He does let me help carry everything to the table, and he turns the lights down so that we can enjoy the candles and the lights from the tree. It was everything he'd promised earlier. That isn't even fair—it's much more than he'd promised. The simplicity of it is beautiful, creating emotions that I don't have words for. I'm officially overwhelmed.

  It doesn't hurt that he nailed the food; it’s absolutely delicious. I eat and watch his face fill with boyish charm and wonder as he stares at the lights during our conversation. What it must be like for him, after years of not celebrating the holidays, of having no one to be with, is beyond me. I'm here for him now, and he for me, and he looks adorable by candle.

  Junior's cheesecake is our desert, of course. We sprawl out on the floor under the tree with the entire box between us, no plates, just a fork each.

  "I don't know how safe this is," I tell him. "There's nothing stopping us from eating the entire cake in one shot."

  He laughs, his granite jaw working magically under his beautiful lips. "Screw it, it's Christmas."

  "I'm still in shock that you cooked that dinner. If I didn't watch you do it, I would not have believed it."

  "I'll hope that's a com
pliment and that you liked it," he chuckles.

  For a moment I am hypnotized by the twinkle in his green eyes. "I loved it! It was amazing, and so are you. I can't believe you can cook on top of everything else. Or are you a one trick pony in the kitchen?"

  More of his laughter. I could never get enough of that. "I'm not too bad. That was my fallback," he says.

  "Fallback?"

  "Yeah," he replies seriously. "You know, in case the blackmailing and espionage gig didn't work out."

  There's my fucking snort!

  Justin looks at me endearingly, as if he enjoys my terrible laugh, as if he lives to hear it. Maybe that's all he really needs, my happiness. All I need is for him to look at me the way he does, the way he is right now, for the rest of my life.

  "Actually, it wasn't a fallback. After my rough start as a kid, I joined the CIA to lift myself out of the hole I'd dug."

  "The CIA?" I breathe, astonished that I didn't know this already.

  "Absolutely. The Culinary Institute of America, right here in New York," he announces with a wink.

  "The CIA," I repeat, giggling harshly. "That's clever."

  He laughs along with me. "It was my one shot at the time, and I was enjoying it, but I didn't get to finish. My past came back for me and it opened up an opportunity, a door that I didn't know was there."

  "Panther?" I ask even though I'm sure of it.

  Justin nods. "That's when all this began." There's a mix of pride and disgust in his eyes for a moment.

  I see there is more behind this story, and I want to know what it is. My curiosity is taking off on its own. "Tell me," I urge. "I want to know everything about you, Justin."

  "It's not pretty. This stuff is never as glamorous as they make it look in the movies." His eyes tell me to be sure before I ask again.

  "I don't care—I want to know."

  Justin shovels some cheesecake into his mouth. "A friend of mine from juvie was this little computer geek who got in trouble for some computer hacking. I took him under my wing since I felt bad for him getting beat up all the time; he was just a little thing, but lots of imagination, always thinking. He'd hacked into the NYPD's system to change some records for some friends of his. He got caught, but they weren't able to figure out what changes he made, so he counted it as a win. From that, he got mixed up with a cop doing some side investigative work. They stumbled onto a human trafficking ring that was much bigger than they could handle, than they were prepared for. They kidnapped his partner without knowing that he was a cop, and let my buddy go, told him he had two hours to bring a girl to swap for his friend—payment for the trouble they caused, they told him."

  "He came to you for help?" I ask, enthralled in his story already.

  Justin nodded. "I told him it didn't matter whether he brought someone back or not, they were going to kill them all—especially if they found out one of them was a police officer."

  Justin shoveled another huge bite of the cheesecake into his mouth.

  "What did you do?" I begged.

  He shrugs his shoulders as if it should be nothing. "I picked up Lena on our way back to them, told him he was going to have to talk his way into getting me inside with them. My buddy told them that I could get any girl they wanted; and the young, hot, black girl was my offering to get in. It worked long enough to get all three of us in."

  I take another bite of the cake myself, my eyes fixed on Justin, hanging on every word. "What happened then? How did you get out of there with Lena?"

  "Not just Lena, I got out of there with her, my buddy, the cop, and a woman we found locked in one of the rooms."

  "Holy shit! How?" I croak.

  "We were more organized, more prepared for what was about to happen. Like I said, it's not always like the movies. These guys weren't trained assassins carrying semi-automatics on their sides. They were drugged up pieces of trash trading women for money so they could afford their next fix. As soon as we were in, Lena and I each shot one, and the last one was so scared he forgot his gun and was begging for his life when I shot him. I put my gun in the hand of the one Lena shot. She put hers on one of my guys. We took the guns they had in their pants so that it wasn't an obvious setup, and then we got everyone out. That night, three known drug addicts burnt up in a fire they started during a gun fight they had with each other."

  "Holy shit!" I breathed. "I'm amazed everyone was okay, and that poor girl."

  "She's fine, took a while to recover, but she's fine now. They all are," he said, sounding more eager to talk about who he saved rather than who he killed. That's probably a better part to focus on, even for someone as strong as Justin.

  "You're still in touch with them?" I ask.

  "My buddy, he developed the code for all of our surveillance applications, and he's our current director of IT. The cop is now a chief, and on our payroll. The girl, I keep tabs on her through her father. Turned out he was an extremely wealthy man that was doing everything in his power to find his daughter. He was very curious to know where she had been, and exactly how she got away. And he had the means to satisfy his curiosity."

  "I can't say I blame him," I said, tossing in another mouthful of cheesecake.

  "No, not at all," he said, suddenly fixing his burning eyes on me. It's like they rip away every protective layer I have, every shield, and leave me exposed and natural. He sees me.

  "If someone took you from me right now," he started, "there is nothing I wouldn't do; no place I wouldn't go, no stone I wouldn't overturn—no one I wouldn't threaten or kill to find you."

  I believe him, every fucking word of it, and a single tear drops from my eye from the ferocity of his love. I wipe it away, upset at my lack of control. I'm usually tougher than this.

  "I was green back then and vulnerable, so he found me easily. I knew right away that he didn't pose a danger in knowing the truth, so I told him exactly what happened. He was impressed and grateful. I made a friend that day; he became the first investor in Panther and our longest client."

  I'm amazed and getting stuffed. I drop my fork into the box.

  "I don't know how I got on that subject—on Christmas Eve," he laughs lightly. "I think I was just telling you how I learned to cook." He puts his fork down next to mine.

  "I'm glad you did," I say with a smile. "I'm proud of the way you started this."

  My hand moves to his forearm, gently playing with the rolled cuff of his sleeve. "Today you did great. It truly was a wonderful Christmas Eve."

  Justin smiles oddly while the lights of the tree gently reflect off his skin and in his eyes.

  "What was that look about?" I ask.

  "Today was only half of the holiday. I'm not done yet, and this evening it isn't over until I say it is."

  The rolling thunder in his voice captivates me. I know what's coming next, and I welcome it. Fuck it, I'm not just going to welcome it, I'm going to reach out and get it and bring it to me.

  My deliberate hand moves from his sleeve to the collar of his shirt, balling it up in my fist as I pull him toward me. I feel him resist. "I'll rip your damn shirt," I growl.

  "I don't give a shit," he laughs. "I'll get more. I love the way you look in these lights. I love the way you look when you know I'm about to take you. That wanting hunger so full of frustrated desire. I love to hold you right here on the edge and watch your beauty explode, taking over my mind, my world. Go ahead and rip my shirt, I don't care. You're under my tree, so clearly you are my Christmas present, and I'm going to take my time unwrapping you, opening you as carefully and deliberately as I feel like."

  A throb deep between my legs demands attention and I tug at his shirt wickedly. The fabric threatens to give, but I do manage to pull myself close enough to hook one of my legs around one of his, guiding his thigh into my begging crotch. When I feel the pressure of his leg, a breathy, uncontrolled moan ruptures from my throat.

  Justin's hand falls on my cheek as he kisses me, softly at first, a gentle press of his lips to mine. They sl
owly part and I feel just the tender tip of his tongue tickle the inside of my lips. His face presses harder as his excitement builds, and his tongue moves deeper into mine, sliding along my accommodating lips and tongue.

  There's a rough tugging at my shirt, his hands opening the buttons one by one, ripping the bottom free from my pants. He unwraps me just as he promised, slowly maneuvering me as he wants until there is nothing left to cover me.

  The throb between my legs has grown to a mild volcanic eruption. He works on removing his own clothes, whipping his shirt off his huge shoulders. I can't resist grabbing them and digging my nails into his muscles, scratching my way down his chest. When he gets to his pants he throws them to the couch while I stare hungrily at his hard cock.

  I squeeze both hands around it before he can stop me, pulling it toward my face. Once it touches my soft cheek, he doesn't have the strength to resist. I pull it across my lips like a bow across the strings of a violin. My eager tongue darts out to the tight skin of its head, licking it strenuously before I devour it. I suck on it hard while both hands massage his shaft in separate directions.

  "Good Christ!" he rumbles as he glances down at me on my knees in front of him, catching me looking up at him to enjoy the pleasure on his face.

  After I remove one hand, I plunge down on him, putting as much of him as I can fit into my mouth. Then I let his wet flesh slide out, careful to keep my teeth away, using the strong suction of my lips. My free hand feels the muscles of his leg flexing and straining for stability.

  Justin lets me suck on him longer than he usually does, lost in the sensations, but eventually he does stop me. "Enough," he growls. "I can't take anymore." He folds me back down to the floor, pinning me there under him while being careful of his size. His fiery mouth discovers my neck and I feel him bite gently on it.

  I can only hold on to him, barely even that in this position. My fingers try to anchor into his arms, but he is a seething beast playing with its meal, working his tongue down my chest until it locates one of my puckered nipples. He swirls several heavy circles around my taunt areola and then sucks it deep into his mouth. He's not really careful with his teeth, but that is his intention. Chills radiate out from my chest like glitter spreading around my body.