by Meghan March
“Thank you.”
“You do other things just as well, if not better.”
I shot a sideways look at him. “You’re going there again?”
His brow creased and then he smiled. “No, but it’s good to know your mind is.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I meant at managing Dirty Dog. I attended a ribbon-cutting ceremony yesterday afternoon for a new business started with a grant from the Entrepreneur Fund. The new proprietor was singing your praises because apparently you found her the dress she’d worn for the big day. Several of the ladies present were complimentary as well, and to be honest, they were women I never would have expected to admit to wearing anything that had had a previous owner.”
I glowed at the compliment. “You’d be surprised how many society types I have as regulars. Vintage Chanel, Dior, Dolce & Gabana, YSL, Versace—I know where to get the good stuff. And it’s classy to be vintage these days.”
“It’s a credit to you that you know what people want, how to get it, and how to make it most appealing.”
“That’s my job.”
“And when you own the place? Are you up for the rest of the challenge?”
I glanced over at him. He didn’t look as if he was questioning my abilities, but just curious.
“I wouldn’t be so dead set on buying it if I weren’t. Contrary to what you might think, Harriet doesn’t run any of the money side. I do everything. I deliver financial statements to her on a monthly basis, and she lets me know if she has any questions. I also deliver a healthy profit margin every month, one that’s increased year over year at an impressive rate.” I paused. “You do know I got my business degree at UNO, right? Graduated with honors, full scholarship, and I worked full time.”
He would have read it in the grant application, so it shouldn’t have come as a shock.
“You’re type A, goal-oriented, high-achieving. You’re a hell of a woman, Yve Santos.”
Before I could bask in the glow of yet another compliment, we reached the barn. Chris, the groom, met us outside. Lucas dismounted and was by my side before Chris could lead me to a mounting block. I gave Belle up reluctantly; I wasn’t ready for this day to be over.
“How’d she do for you?” Chris asked.
“She was perfect. Which is kind of terrible, because now I’m going to want to do it again.” And I really did. There was something incredibly relaxing about riding.
“Fitting that Creole Belle would be perfect for a beautiful woman,” Chris said before ducking his head shyly.
I slid my gaze to Lucas. He was shooting a thunderous gaze at the kid, so I nudged him.
Lucas’s gaze dropped to me. “How is that a problem? You wanting to do this again?”
I gestured to myself. “I was on a borrowed horse in borrowed clothes. This isn’t exactly my life.”
Lucas watched me contemplatively. “It could be.”
What was that supposed to mean?
I didn’t know what to say, and the silence grew heavy and awkward. I filled it with practicalities instead. “I need to go get changed.”
He nodded, and the moment was gone. “I’ll get my clothes and meet you at the car.”
Ten minutes later we were driving home, but once again, the silence was companionable rather than awkward.
Lucas’s words echoed in my head.
It could be.
I had no idea what to make of them, but my heart seemed to jump to its own conclusions, the cracks filling with hope.
A FEELING OF WEIGHTLESSNESS WOKE me, and I stiffened. I must have fallen asleep waiting for Lucas to finish his conference calls with Asia.
“You’re fine,” Lucas murmured.
“What’s goin—” I mumbled.
“You fell asleep in the wrong bed. I want you in mine.”
My brain was too fuzzy to argue. I was conscious of being slipped between cool sheets, but after that . . . nothing.
I woke several hours later with a big, hot body pressed against my back. I rarely slept with anyone, and I never cuddled.
A heavy weight over my hip and a hand held me in place, pressed to my belly just above the waistband of my panties.
Lucas spooned? No way.
I shifted, and my movements woke the sleeping giant.
“Go back to sleep, Yve.”
“Why am I in your bed?” I whispered.
“Because this is where I want you.”
I tried to scoot away, to put a few inches between us, but Lucas didn’t release me.
“Woman, go back to sleep.”
A riot of emotions crashed through me. Hope was chief among them, but I couldn’t banish the strands of fear that I was getting in over my head.
Why was sleeping with someone, all curled up like this, more scary than all the sex we’d had? Because this was Lucas. And I was me.
What are we doing?
“Stop thinking so damn hard, and go back to sleep.”
I shifted again, and a rush of Lucas’s hot breath hit my neck before I found myself flipped onto my back and Lucas leaning on his forearms on either side of my head.
His knee slid between my thighs. “The only reason we should be awake in the middle of the night is because I’m deep inside you and you’re on the edge of coming.”
Heat pulsed through my lower body as I registered his erection growing against my belly.
Sex. Sex I could handle. It was everything else that confused me, scaring the hell out of me.
“Then what are you waiting for?” I lifted my hips to rock against him and twined my legs around his waist.
“Stop, Yve.”
I froze. “Then let me up.”
“I’m going to have to fuck you until you black out so I can get some goddamn sleep with you in my arms, I see.”
I had no time to process his growled statement, because my mind was trying to gauge what his hands were doing. In moments, my panties and the T-shirt I’d been wearing were both gone, and Lucas’s mouth was on mine. He devastated and devoured before moving down to my jaw, my ear, and then sliding along my neck to my breasts.
He covered my skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses, only lifting his mouth to murmur, “So fucking soft and perfect,” before sliding farther south down my body.
Somewhere along the line, Lucas had gone from being my hate-fuck to being my lover. When did that happen?
I didn’t get a chance to answer my own question because his lips closed around my clit and once he began to tease and suck and drag me toward the edge, I forgot to care. All I wanted was Lucas.
“I’m so close—”
He pulled away, even as I gripped the smooth silk of his hair. “You’re going to come with me inside you.” He repositioned himself over me, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
“Wait, condom?”
Lucas dragged his teeth along my collarbone. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good it felt to be inside you without one. I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone but you since that first night.”
“So am I, but—”
“You’re protected.”
“Yes.”
His green eyes, almost black in the dim light, bore into mine. “I want you bare, and unless you have an objection, we’re done with that bullshit.”
I considered it for only a split second before I shook my head. “No. Just hurry.”
Lucas pushed inside me—his eyes still locked with mine—with no barrier between us.
The way he took me was all consuming because Lucas Titan didn’t know any other way, or at least that was the theory forming in my passion-drugged brain. But this wasn’t the crazy, frenzied fucking of before. He held me close with every thrust, never letting go, never dropping my gaze.
When I finally squeezed my eyes shut, succumbing to the orgasm that dragged me to the edge, he growled one word against my ear. “Mine.”
As the pleasure shimmered through my limbs, I knew everything had changed.
&
nbsp; “IF YOU WANT TO WORK at Dirty Dog today, then Jerome is staying there to protect you. I’m not taking a chance with your safety, even if you have no problem doing it.”
I faced off against Lucas in the kitchen. His arms were crossed and he was in full lord of the manor mode. I raised an eyebrow. “Jerome is my new bodyguard?”
Lucas dropped his arms. “Former British SAS. He might be old, but he’s still lethal.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
It only seemed fair to concede since Lucas had arranged for Jerome to find me something to wear. A white-and-orange striped dress and a pair of purple heels—both courtesy of Dirty Dog’s inventory—had been in the bathroom when I’d woken up this morning.
Woken up alone, as Lucas had already gone. Rather than spend any time freaking out over the fact that I’d woken up in his bed because he moved me there last night, I’d dressed and made my way to the kitchen—and this debate.
“But you realize he can’t babysit me forever.”
Lucas lifted a hand to my chin. “He can until the cops and arson investigators figure out exactly what happened and who was responsible.” He paused before he added, “I’m not going to lose you to something senseless when we both know I can protect you.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, I don’t need protection. But the feeling of foreboding growing inside me contradicted that, along with warmth at the knowledge that Lucas wanted to protect me.
“For now,” I said with a frown.
“Stubborn woman.”
“Hey, I gave in. Don’t get used to it.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice low as he skimmed a finger along my jaw.
“I should go then. I’m going to be late.”
“I’m not done looking at you.”
Speechlessness wasn’t something I experienced often, but words escaped me as he memorized my face.
“Beautiful. Smart. Determined. You should probably run while you still have the chance.”
I swallowed. “And what if I don’t want to run?”
His jaw tightened. “Then God help us both.”
Lucas stepped away and dropped his hand to take mine. “We’ll find Jerome. He’ll take you to work.”
I walked into Dirty Dog, my mind spinning about what to do with Lucas. He was invading every inch of my life, and it should have made me completely claustrophobic and defensive, but I actually felt relieved. No one could argue the man wasn’t capable. I’d always been the only person I could truly count on, but now I also had him. And then there was the something more growing at an alarming rate.
My old reactions yelled, Dangerous, Yve. Bad idea. But these new feelings were drowning that voice out.
“Hey, girl!” JP rushed toward me, throwing her arms around me before I had a chance to react. She squeezed me so tightly my ribs ached. “I was so worried when Jerome told me what happened! Oh my God.”
“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile to my lips as I recalled the terrifying events of the morning before, and carefully untangled myself from her grip.
“Are you sure you should be here? I mean, maybe you should take another day.”
“I need a distraction,” I replied with absolute honesty.
I surveyed the shop. Jerome manned the register, ringing up two ladies who’d been waiting at the door when we opened. Even though I’d only been gone a day, I examined every inch of the place, noting what had been moved or sold. A lot of my favorites. The fun of stocking this store with stuff I loved meant a little piece of my heart went out with each sale. And today, I supposed I was feeling a little more sentimental because . . . well, all the favorites I’d taken home before were gone.
From the looks of it, they’d had a hell of a busy day yesterday. My gaze landed on the antique dress form in the front corner near the window. It was empty. The Cinderella dress was gone.
I guess I should’ve nabbed it when I had the chance, I told myself, my stomach sinking with disappointment. Because now I had a legitimate reason to start refilling my closet, and in the back of my mind, I’d pictured that dress in it.
“Good day, ladies,” Jerome called out, and waved as the women exited the shop.
It seemed that between JP and Jerome, I was barely needed. Which was fine with me for the moment. I was having a difficult time finding my ever-cheery shopkeeper smile.
“I’m going to dig into the inventory in the back and see if I can find a few things that will fit me.” I gestured to the dress Jerome had selected. “Although you did a great job picking this one.”
Jerome’s forehead wrinkled, and JP piped up. “Oh, I picked it.” She leaned in closer to add, “And I stopped at Trashy Diva for the underwear. Figured it’d be less weird to have me do it.”
“Take your time, dear. We have this under control,” Jerome added.
A few hours later, I’d selected and pressed enough clothes for a few days and finally returned to the shop floor.
“JP, you want to take your lunch?” I asked.
She paused in restacking a pile of jeans. “Sounds great. I’m going to hit the café up the street. You want me to grab you something?”
The door chimed before I could respond. Out of habit, I glanced over my shoulder with a smile and greeting. The smile fell away as soon as I saw who it was.
Jennifer. And she was wearing the dress she’d bought the last time she was here.
I swung around to look at JP. “I’d love something. Feel free to surprise me. Jerome, if you want to go too, that’s fine.”
Jerome studied me and looked to the skinny blonde. For a moment I’d forgotten that Lucas had designated him as my babysitter.
“I think I’ll sweep the front sidewalk.”
They both headed out the front door, Jerome grabbing the broom tucked in the little hidden closet up front.
I turned to Jennifer. “Can I help you?” I asked, keeping my tone polite.
“Just stopping in. There were a few more things I wanted to pick up. I was interrupted last time.”
I held my breath, waiting for her to say something about owning the place soon. But she didn’t. I needed to talk to Harriet. Tomorrow.
She turned to the dress form that had held my Cinderella dress. “Did you sell that blue dress? That’s the one I came back for.”
In that moment, I was glad it was gone. It was childish, but I was glad she wouldn’t have it either. “Sorry, it was sold.”
She spun. “I can’t wait until I own this place. I’ll be able to keep the good stuff and never miss a thing.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t think she understood that if she owned the shop, I would no longer be working here and the inventory would never be the same.
I dug deep and found my don’t be a bitch to the unwanted customer attitude, one I rarely needed. “Is there something else I can interest you in?” I almost choked on the words.
She scanned the store, hands on her hips in contemplation. “I think I’ll wait for you to put more out. It looks like your inventory is getting a little bare.”
My urge intensified to go look through everything in the back and take the rest of the items I’d made mental notes as being maybes to add to my wardrobe.
“Then I guess we’ll be seeing you later.”
She smiled, all saccharine sweet. “Oh, you know you will. I’m hopeful next time I’ll have the keys. See you soon, Yve.” She strolled to the front door and shut it behind her.
Jerome slipped back inside as soon as she was gone. “I got the feeling you wanted privacy with that one. Any particular reason?”
Did I want to explain? Not really. But would I? A little.
I gave him the quick rundown on Harriet selling the store, and Jennifer’s interest and her continued poking around.
“I can see how a woman like that would think she could run this like you do,” he started. “But she’s wrong. Dirty Dog is clearly the domain of Yve Santos, and anyone who doesn’t recognize that is an idiot. I
think I should talk to this Harriet woman and make sure she understands that.”
His words coaxed a smile to my lips. “I’m going to talk to Harriet tomorrow. I have to. I’ve been putting it off because I want her to know that I’m serious. I wanted to have some idea of how I’m going to pay for it before I stated my intentions. But time seems to be running out, and I’m not going to miss this opportunity because of my own damn pride.”
That was a huge revelation for me. Dirty Dog is mine, and I would beg to keep it. It also raised the question: what else had my pride been holding me back from?
Jerome nodded, crossed his arms, and pressed a finger to his lips. It was officially the new pose of thinking man.
“Have you discussed it with Mr. Titan? He’s very good at this kind of thing.”
“I’m not looking for a handout.”
“And he doesn’t believe in giving them, so I think you’re safe on that count.”
JP returned, sending the chime into another cheery jingle, and two more customers followed her inside. Just the distraction I needed.
But still, tomorrow—plan or no plan—I was talking to Harriet. I’d call her before I left tonight to make sure she was free.
WHEN I FLIPPED THE OPEN sign to Closed and waved JP off, I was glad the day was over. I was tired. I couldn’t imagine how exhausted I would have been if I’d won my way about working yesterday. Apparently letting someone take a little care of me wasn’t the end of the world. Actually, it was kind of nice.
Jerome escorted me out the back to his personal vehicle, a shiny black Audi.
“Like the Transporter.” I eyed his spiffy black suit and bald head. “You could definitely pull off the Jason Statham look.”
The older man chuckled. “Maybe his father—or grandfather. But excellent choice of movie reference regardless, my dear.”
I smiled as he hung the dress bags in the back, and I climbed in.