Secret Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 5)

by Marysol James

  She’d smiled at Curtis then, and his stomach had tightened up at the sight. What a fucking gorgeous smile – so bright and open. Real. Yeah, Tessa Mahoney was the real deal, and he was screwed. No way she’d ever go for a rough, foul-mouthed ass-kicker like him, but she was all he wanted now.

  “Never had my own bodyguard before,” she said.

  He’d stared down at her incredible body, and thought that he wanted nothing more than to keep every inch of her in his sights, at all times. If he could just watch her move, keep her safe and secure, he’d never even need to touch her. Just knowing that she was out in the world smiling that smile was enough; just knowing that she’d walk in to his life once in a while, and bring it some light was everything.

  “At your service,” he said gruffly, taking a small stab at charm. “You need me, I’m here.”

  Tessa nodded, turned, and picked up her serving tray. With a final smile at both men, she’d headed over to one of her tables. The semi-drunk men had watched her approach with clear interest, and Curtis narrowed his eyes as she chatted and laughed with the customers. It made him weirdly jealous to see other men flirting with Tessa, and seeing her lightly flirting back. But that was the deal at Curves, and Curtis knew it: the ladies serving up the alcohol had to keep the clients happy and relaxed, and flirtatious conversation was a big part of that.

  “She’s cute, huh?” Aidan commented.

  Curtis grunted.

  “Yeah, I know you think so.” Aidan shook his scruffy blond head. “Christ, man, you actually smiled at her. It was terrifying to behold, but it was also kinda nice to see. I had no idea you even could smile.”

  “Shut it, Carter.” Curtis had stalked away again, his glower firmly fixed back in place.

  And that was it. That was how it had been for over a year since Tessa had come to work at Curves. She’d shown up and sparkled and shone, and Curtis had stood with his massive arms crossed and a scowl on his hard face, watching her. Keeping her safe.

  Over the course of that year, and against all the odds – the odds being Curtis himself – they’d become friends. It was inevitable, really, since Tessa’s humor and kindness had just demolished every single one of Curtis’ defenses. It was a sweetness offensive, and he was pathetically helpless in the face of it. He didn’t even want to resist it, and that was the most baffling part of it all.

  The truth was, though, that he’d totally given in to her about three months after she started working at Curves. It was his birthday coming up, and the other staff had been threatening to buy him a few shots on the big day. Curtis had been his usual silent self on the whole damn subject. He didn’t celebrate his birthday and he never had, and he saw no real reason to start now. If the guys and the ladies wanted to throw a few shots his way, he’d take them, he supposed. But that was hardly a celebration, and that was just fine with him.

  He should have known that Tessa would have other ideas.

  She showed up that night with a homemade cake, complete with a candle and his name written in icing on the pale yellow frosting. She gave it to him in the staffroom when they were alone; she’d instinctively known not to make a big, public deal about it, and that made him love her even more.

  He stared down at the cake, blinking in shock. She waited, her glorious hair curling all around her perfect face.

  “You – you made this?” he finally said, more abruptly than he intended. “From scratch?”

  “Yes.”

  “For me?”

  She smiled at him. “It’s your name on the cake, Curtis. Happy birthday.”

  He stared down at it again, touched beyond belief. It had been a long, long time since anyone had given him anything freely, with an open hand. It had been even longer since anyone had done something nice for him ‘just because’. That was when he decided to open up to her, just a little bit.

  “Thanks, sweetheart.” Unlike every other guy at Curves – both staff and customers – Curtis never dropped casual endearments with the female staff. They felt fake and forced in his mouth, but with Tessa and in this moment, this one flowed out smoothly. He took a deep breath, prepared himself to be honest with her. “I’ve never had a birthday cake before.”

  “You haven’t?” She cocked her head at him, her brow furrowed in the most adorable way. “What about when you were little?”

  He shook his dark-blond head. “Never.”

  She was quiet then, looking up at him. He saw a hundred questions in those green-and-gold eyes, questions that he waited to see if she’d ask. And when she did ask a question, it wasn’t one of the ones that he expected… but it was pure Tessa.

  “Does it upset you that I did this?” she asked. “Should I not have – did I overstep?”

  “No.” Horrified that he’d made her feel badly after doing something so damn sweet, he rushed to reassure her. “No, Tessa. I love it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He gave her a rare grin now, all slow and warm, and she smiled back. “Weird to get my first-ever birthday cake at the age of thirty-four… but better late than never, huh?”

  She laughed. “So… you want to blow out the candle, too? Do the thing properly?”

  “Yeah.”

  She set the cake down on the table, and pulled a blue candle and a lighter out of her backpack. She stuck the candle in the cake and lit it.

  “OK,” she said. “Now, I have a terrible voice, but you can’t have your first-ever birthday cake and not have me sing ‘Happy Birthday’.”

  “Is that the rule?”

  “I think so.” She picked up the cake, and held it in front of her. “Brace yourself, Curtis. This is gonna be painful.”

  “I’m ready.”

  She hadn’t been lying, he saw, or more like, heard. Tessa’s speaking voice was sweet and sexy, but her singing was definitely sub-par. He didn’t give a shit. He stood there, watching the way the flame lit up her face, and made her eyes glow gold as she sang to him. It was hands-down the best moment of his whole life.

  “Make a wish,” she told him. “Go on, now.”

  Why, baby? he thought. I think all I ever wanted just happened.

  He nodded, though, blew out the candle, forgot about making a wish. The one and only thing he wished for and wanted to come true was standing right in front of him, and she belonged to another man. She laughed again, and then set the cake down.

  “You want a piece?” she said, already busy digging out a knife and paper plates and plastic forks from her backpack.

  “I sure as hell do.”

  “I didn’t know what kind to make you.” Tessa frowned at the cake, considering. “In the end, I decided on vanilla cake with lemon frosting.” She glanced up at him. “I didn’t think you were the kind who was in to sweet stuff.”

  “I like sweet stuff once in a while,” he said, holding her eyes. “Just depends what it is.”

  She stared back, her beautiful face a bit startled. Curtis knew that she was surprised by this different side of him, this softer, kinder side, a Curtis who teased and flirted, and he wondered if she was finding it too much, too soon. He was just about to apologize for his presumption when she gave him an impish grin.

  “Wow,” she said, her voice sultry and teasing in return. “So you’ve got a hidden sweet tooth, huh?”

  “I do.” He grinned on back at her, loving the game. “I like to nibble on sweet things when nobody’s looking.”

  “What kind of sweet things?”

  “Hmmmm.” He blinked at her innocently. “Sugar cubes.”

  “Like a horse?” She looked him up and down. “God knows, you’re as big as one.”

  “You know it, babe.”

  She giggled a bit, and handed him a piece of cake. She watched as he took a big bite, then he shook his head.

  “It’s amazing,” he said. “Perfect. Thank you.”


  Tessa blushed. “You mean it?”

  “Yeah.” He took another bite. “I think it’s the best first birthday cake that anyone’s ever had.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” she said quietly. She paused. “Curtis?”

  “Yeah?”

  “People will care about you, if you let them,” she said hesitantly. “The people who work here, they’re good people, you know, and they want to be good to you. So, maybe, just let them?”

  He stared at the floor, turned over her words in his head. He wondered why he wasn’t angry at her for poking in to his life; all he knew was that he wasn’t. No, if the truth be told, he was happy to let her in. Maybe it was OK to let other people in, too?

  Curtis lifted his eyes to hers again. “You think that’s true? That people would care about me?”

  “They already do,” she said, then she lightened the mood. “Not that you make it easy for them, with your growling and glowering all over the damn place.”

  Startled, he laughed aloud. Tessa jumped.

  “Was that a laugh?” she said, astonished. “Like, for real?”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” she promised solemnly. “Now… you want to share some of your birthday cake with everyone else?”

  He had wanted to, and that was the night that everything changed for Curtis at Curves. It had always been a damn good place to work, in terms of the money and the job, and he’d liked his colleagues just fine. Jax was a great boss, and Curtis had even liked most of the regulars. But he hadn’t shown any of that. He hadn’t gotten to know anybody, not really, and he sure as fuck hadn’t let them get to know him.

  Tessa’s small gift changed him in ways that Curtis never saw coming: she made him soften and open up a bit, made him start to talk and flirt and tease. The other waitresses had always looked to him to protect them, but now they joked around with him, too, and he found that he liked it. His fellow bouncers had known they could count on him when the shit hit the fan, but now Dillon and Alex and Wes invited him out for a beer and to their poker nights, and he liked that just as much.

  Curtis had been alone for a very long time, and he thought that things were always going to be that way for him. But Dangerous Curves was now his home, and the staff were now his family, and Tessa was even more than that. She was his fucking heart’s blood, his life’s breath. She was his sun, and the center of his universe, and he’d do anything for her – anything at all.

  He’d never touched her – not even on her hand, not even once – until that night that drunk fucker grabbed her, and then punched her in the back of the head.

  She’d collapsed in to Curtis’ arms, and for the very first time in his life, rage and a desire to fight had taken second place to love. He’d walked away from the asshole who’d hurt Tessa, totally focused on getting her somewhere safe. He hadn’t thought about anything except taking care of her. OK, yeah, he’d gone back after and beaten the crap out of the dickhead – but not until Tessa was safe. She was his priority.

  He’d known that holding her when she was unconscious was a questionable thing to do, that her body wasn’t his to touch and caress the way that he did that night. Her asshole boyfriend had that right, not Curtis, but he did it anyway. She’d been so scared and confused, and all he’d wanted to do was make her feel safe again.

  Holding Tessa as she lay helpless and vulnerable, his hands in her hair, her face pressed in to his throat, was the only real sweetness that he’d ever known and he took it, selfishly and without regret. He’d dreamt of it since, and he’d kill to be able to have it again. It was all he wanted, and it was the one fucking thing that he was sure he’d never, ever have again.

  Because now she hated him.

  Chapter Two

  Shane ‘Mac’ MacIntyre turned over in bed and reached for her. When his hands touched nothing but mattress and sheets, his eyes flew open.

  Automatically, immediately, before he could see reason over reaction, his heart sped up. Mac knew that she was around here somewhere, that she hadn’t left him again, but his body needed time to catch up to his head.

  He heard a noise in the hallway now, and he glanced at the bedroom door. There she was, so damn beautiful in the early-morning light, her honey-blonde hair around her shoulders in waves, her amazing violet eyes warm and full of love. The only woman that he’d ever loved; the only woman that he’d ever lost; the only woman that he’d ever won back. The only woman he’d ever be with for the whole rest of his life.

  “Mirrie,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep and need. “Come here, babe.”

  Hearing it in his voice, she came. She knew that even though she’d moved in with him and promised him forever, Shane still hated to wake up and find her gone. He was a snarky smart-ass in every single part of his life – except when it came to her. When it came to her, Shane was oddly vulnerable and deadly serious, and she knew that he needed reassurance and physical closeness.

  Miranda Kane curled up in his arms, her head on his shoulder. His long blond hair fell around her in a sexy curtain, and she smiled.

  “Good morning,” she said. “You sleep well?”

  “Mmmm-hmmmm.” His large hands ran over her back, traced the forget-me-not tattoo on her neck – the tattoo that she’d gotten to remember him. She may have left him without a word all those years ago, but Mac knew now that she’d never, ever forgotten him. “You tired me out last night, sweetheart.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said pertly. “That was my intention.”

  “Well, mission accomplished, for damn sure.” Mac grinned down at her, remembering her mouth on him the night before. The contrast between her soft, hot lips and the cool, hard metal of her lip-piercing had made him come so hard, he’d almost blacked out. “I didn’t even hear you get up.”

  A shadow passed over her face now, and Mac gave her a sharp look. “What?”

  “What what?” Mirrie responded, surprised at his harsh tone.

  “What was that?” he said. “You looked… I don’t know. Worried.”

  “Yeah, well.” She sighed and traced the curve of his muscled chest. “King called me this morning, really early. I grabbed my cell before it could wake you up, and snuck out of the bedroom to take the call.”

  Mac frowned. She sounded upset, and right away his arms tightened around her.

  “What did King want to talk to you about?” Mac said, even though he knew damn good and well exactly what King would have been calling about. Well, not ‘what’, actually, but ‘who’. He just hoped against hope that the ‘who’ in question was OK.

  “About Warren.” Mirrie’s voice was unusually quiet, resigned. “But you guessed that, right?”

  “Of course I did. He’s alright?”

  “Yeah.” Her smile was sad. “He survived the night.”

  Mac heaved a deep sigh, and pulled her closer. “That doesn’t sound good. Was there trouble again last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bad?”

  “Really bad.” Mirrie tried to stay calm, but it was getting progressively harder to do that with every passing day. “King gave me a heads-up that the lead news item today will be that a midnight raid on some drugs warehouse up in the Rockies got ultra-violent, and turned in to a fire fight. Seven of the bad guys are dead, and three are from the Fallen Angels MC. King wanted me to know that Warren wasn’t one of them.”

  Mac sighed again, this time with relief. He’d never met Warren Kane, Mirrie’s younger cousin, but what he’d heard about Warren, he liked very much.

  The kid – though at the age of twenty-five, maybe calling him a ‘kid’ was pushing it slightly – had been recruited to Prospect for the Fallen Angels. According to Mirrie, Warren’s home life back in Kentucky was pretty grim, although she’d never gone in to much detail about that. She and Warren had been close a
s children, though, and she harbored a soft spot in her heart for the guy.

  When she’d heard from King that her shy, sweet, courtly cousin had moved to Denver and joined the Kane family ‘business’, she’d been horrified. King knew Warren pretty well, actually, and so did a few members of his team. Warren had been a reluctant guest at the King’s Men safe house during the negotiations with the Fallen Angels for Gabriela Torres’ safety. According to King, Warren had remained nothing but polite and easy-going the whole time, and he’d impressed everyone that he’d come in contact with.

  King had handed Warren back to the Fallen Angels with nothing but misgivings, and by that point, Warren had started to fully understand just what it meant to Prospect for a one-percenter MC. It meant nothing good, and sure enough, in the months since he’d been returned and had been made a full member, Warren’s life had gone straight to hell. It was one violent event, and confrontation, and night, after another – and Mirrie was utterly frantic every time she heard about something befalling a Fallen Angel.

  So Warren was safe, at least for now, though Mac was sure the kid’s days were numbered.

  “Three of the MC members are dead, huh? Damn.” Mac shook his head, then paused. “And did you hear anything about…” He trailed off.

  She knew what he was asking, though. “Dad and Donovan are OK, too.”

  Mac nodded. Truly, he didn’t give two fucks about Sandy ‘Sands’ Kane or Donovan ‘Joker’ Kane. But seeing as they were Mirrie’s father and older brother, he felt obliged to ask, even though he hated them with every cell and nerve in his massive body.

  He had good reason, of course. Mirrie’s own father and brother, along with their Fallen Angels MC brothers, had beaten the crap out of Mirrie years earlier. That was the price she’d had to pay for freedom from the group, and she’d paid it in full. With a fucking astronomical rate of interest thrown on top, just for good measure.