“Oh, damn.” He backed away from her in three quick steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I’m an idiot. Let me get him outta here. I’ll take him down to the beach where there’s plenty of tourists to feed him so he won’t be tempted to come back.” As he spoke, he circled around the other side of the pool and headed for the path to the back gate. “I’ll set the alarm. Go inside and lock the doors. I’ll be right back.”
As her wobbly knees finally gave out, Libby sank onto one of the loungers and stared after him in complete shock. Why hadn’t he teased her? She’d given him plenty of ammunition between mistaking the iguana for an alligator and squealing like a terrified child when he tried to get her to pet it. The Jude she knew wouldn’t have let it go. The heartless bastard would have been relentless about it, too, teasing her until she was sobbing…
But he hadn’t.
In fact, he’d looked horrified that he’d unintentionally frightened her. He’d even walked the long way around the pool so that the damn lizard wouldn’t be anywhere near her. That was…thoughtful. And kind of…well, surprisingly sweet.
“Who are you?” she whispered into the gathering dusk. Because whoever this man was, he definitely was not the Jude Wilde she once knew.
…
Jude dropped the iguana on a rock wall by the beach, much to the delight of the tourists watching the sun’s fiery decent over the ocean. It was only then, as dozens of cameras turned his way, that he realized he was still dressed for a nap—in nothing but his underwear. His only concern had been getting Mr. Iguana as far away from Libby as possible to erase that terrified expression from her face, and he hadn’t given his state of dress—or, rather, undress—a second thought.
But, hell with it. It was Key West. He’d seen stranger things than a man running around in boxer-briefs carrying a lizard.
Wary of leaving Libby for too long, he gave the crowd a wave then beat feet the block and a half back to the house. He found her exactly where he’d left her, sitting on the end of the lounger.
“Libby, I told you to go inside.”
Her eyes looked huge in the gathering darkness and even and dolt like him could see the glaze of shock in them. He cursed himself yet again and knelt beside her. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”
“No, it wasn’t—” She lifted a shaking hand to her temple and let go a humorless laugh. “I thought it was an alligator.”
“Crocodile,” he corrected. “Alligators like fresh water. American Crocodiles live in salt water, but they’re endangered and you don’t see them much this far south…” At her furrowed brow, he trailed off. “And that doesn’t matter. I’m rambling. Sorry.”
She tilted her head to one side and studied him with a curious expression. “You’ve been apologizing a lot lately.”
“Yeah, well. I got a lot to apologize for, don’t I?” Heat crawled across the back of his neck and he hoped like hell he wasn’t turning red. To cover, he gripped her by the wrists and lifted her to her feet. “How about we go inside now? Get some coffee and I’ll put in a movie.”
Some of the color returned to her complexion as he led her toward the house. “If you put in Lake Placid, I swear I’ll make you into a soprano.”
“Aw, give me some credit, Libs. I have a more refined pallet than that when it comes to movies.” He settled her on the couch, and then backed up a couple steps before adding with a grin, “I was thinking Godzilla.”
“I will slaughter you,” she said and wrapped herself up in the thin quilt from the back of the couch, but the threat lacked heat and a smile played around her lips. It pleased him that she’d bounced back enough from the scare to start issuing threats.
“All right, no giant reptiles.” He opened the cabinets in the entertainment center and found a dismal selection of highbrow dramas and lowbrow comedies. Apparently, Seth’s tastes in movies hadn’t changed. “We’ll order something On Demand.”
“That bad?” Libby asked.
He winced. “Painful.”
As he straightened, Libby cleared her throat. “Um, Jude, you do know you’re still in your underwear, right?”
“I’m aware.”
“And that you ran out in public like that?”
“Eh.” He waved a hand, but decided that maybe it was time to pull on some shorts. “Key West is like Vegas. What happens here, stays here. I’ll get dressed, maybe pop us some corn.” He handed her the remote and the quilt fell away as she reached for it. Angry red lines marred the soft flesh of her arm.
“What the hell?” Forgetting about everything else, he caught her wrist and turned her arm over when she tried to hide the marks. “That fucking cat.”
“Don’t be mad at him.” She tugged, trying to loosen his grip. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“Bullshit. He scratched the hell out of you.” Jude ran his fingers gently over the scratches, then dropped her wrist and changed course for the small bathroom off the living room. He tore open cupboards, looking for the first aid kit that Seth kept there. It had seen a lot of use during their partying days, always kept well stocked with everything from antiseptic cream to sutures to IV bags and tubing. He found it and started back across the living room. “I need to clean you up.”
“Why?”
“Because that cat shits in a box and then digs through it. I can’t even begin to guess the kinds of bacteria he carries around on his paws.”
“Not that. I agree that I need to clean these scratches but…why do you care?”
Her words hit him with the force of a surface-to-air missile and he stopped short half way across the living room. Why did he care? The question implied awe and disbelief, as if he was doing something so far out of the realm of her understanding she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. And, damn, that hurt, because he’d never stopped caring. For him, it was a fact of life—inevitable, like the spin of the earth on its axis. No matter what he did, thought, or pretended, Elizabeth Pruitt was always going to mean something to him.
Not like he could tell her that. No, he’d had his reasons for ending things with her the way he had—reasons that still applied. So instead of saying any of the thoughts on his mind, he answered, “It’s my job. Your father hired Wilde Security to keep you safe from everything, including insane cats.”
She frowned. “Sam’s not insane. He was just scared.”
“All cats are insane,” he said and settled onto the couch next to her. He set the first aid kit on the coffee table, flipped it open, and searched for the antiseptic pads.
“Wait, let me get this straight.” She held up her hands to stop him from dabbing any of the scratches. “You like freaky giant lizards, but not cats?”
“Yeah, pretty much. Cats always look like their plotting your demise.”
“And the lizard wasn’t?”
“Nah. He just wanted to steal a flower or two.” He caught her wrist and slapped one of the pads over the scratches.
She hissed through her teeth. “You are the only insane one in this room.”
“So you’ve said. Repeatedly. Now hold still. It doesn’t hurt.”
She grumbled, but let him finish tending to her arm. After a long moment, she muttered, “You’re kind of good at this.”
“I had some battlefield medical training.”
“All so you could tend to cat scratches.”
“Yeah, well.” With a shrug, he packed up the kit and started gathering the used bandage wrappers. “I’d much rather be here dealing with cat scratches than over there dealing with a buddy’s bullet wound.”
“God. That was so insensitive of me. I apologize. I’m still shaken, I guess.” She hesitated, swallowed hard. “Did you ever see one? A bullet wound?”
“And worse.”
She bit her lower lip. “Were you…?”
“No, I never took a bullet.”
“But you were shot at?”
“Few times. Lucky for me, we had better snipers. Seth saved my ass more times than I want to admit.” He picked up the
kit, the wad of wrappers and used antiseptic pads. “Figure out what movie you want to watch. I’ll be back in a few.”
Without giving her time to respond, he returned the kit to its spot in the bathroom then strode to the bedroom. Once inside, he leaned against the cool wood. Drew in several deep breaths.
Smile, he told himself. Just smile.
Damn, she had a way of picking at him until he felt things he didn’t want to feel. Things he tried so very hard to block from his memory. Things like the feel of a buddy’s blood seeping onto his hands from mortal wounds, the fear that he’d never make it home in once piece, the knowledge that if he did, he was going back to an empty house because he’d ruined the one good thing he’d ever had…
The past was the past, he reminded himself. No sense in dwelling on things that he couldn’t change. Bridges burned for a reason…and blah blah blah.
Dragging his hands through his hair, he shoved away from the door and grabbed his basketball shorts from the floor. As he yanked them on, he made himself smile.
But part of him in the deepest, darkest pit in his soul wondered how long he could keep smiling.
Chapter Ten
A spatter of color against the kitchen counter caught Libby’s attention as she came inside from the pool the following morning and she finally pulled her nose out of the book she’d found tucked away on the shelf in the living room. The light and fluffy romance wasn’t her usual reading preference, but since her other book had taken a swim during the lizard fiasco, she’d picked this one up out of desperation—and she hadn’t been able to put it down. The hero was just too…yummy. Not the perfect man, by any means, but close enough that she kind of wished he was real. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed since she started reading until the sun’s rays became brutal and she had to go inside or risk sunburn. Even so, still she planned to get a glass of iced tea, curl up somewhere quiet, and finish the book.
Except that flash of color was out of place on the dark granite counter top and Libby backtracked to get a better look.
A flower.
Surprised, she lifted it to her nose and scanned the house’s open floor plan for Jude. Why would he pick a flower? And then just leave it sitting here without water? Here, where she’d be sure to see it…
She scowled at the book, which she’d laid on the counter when she picked up the flower. Its candy-colored cover showed a shirtless man in a pair of low-riding jeans, his very fine backside turned to the reader, with a rose in his hand, hidden behind his back for the unsuspecting heroine. The hero had spent most of the book trying to seduce his love with flowers, which made him charming.
Not so much with Jude, who had hinted oh so casually this morning that Seth’s sister was a book addict and, since this used to be the Harlan family’s vacation house before Seth moved in fulltime, Abby may have left something behind for her to read.
That conniving…sweet…no, definitely conniving jerk!
Incensed, she stepped on the trashcan pedal to open the lid and dropped the perky pink flower in. She started to toss the book in after it, but hesitated. She knew the hero would get his woman in the end and yet, she had to finish reading it. She could use a happily ever after in her life right now, so she let the lid drop and set the book aside on the counter. She’d come back to it later. Right now, she had to set a certain thick-skulled man straight about their relationship. Again.
She thought he was in the garage, so she started when she marched into the living room and found him sprawled facedown on the couch, sound asleep. Should’ve figured as much—he was an early riser and afternoon nap-taker, after all. One arm hung limply off the side of the cushion and his bare feet stuck out over the couch’s arm. His T-shirt had ridden up in his sleep, showing a glimpse of his deeply tanned skin and the ink of that back tattoo he was so protective of. Curiosity overrode her annoyance and she drifted closer.
What was that tattoo? It wasn’t “nothing” like he’d said. It meant something to him and, she couldn’t help it, she was dying to find out what. The dog tags, the ballet slippers, the intricate swirls of words…what did it all signify?
Sam lay on the far arm of the couch by Jude’s head, curled up, his green eyes focused with unblinking intent on Jude. Maybe the cat was plotting his demise after all. The two got along about as well as cops and criminals. Still, she was inexplicably pleased to see them sharing the same piece of furniture without incident.
If Jude didn’t notice Sam on the couch with him, he must be sound asleep. So maybe she could sneak up, take a better look at that tattoo of his…
Just a quick peek. He’d never even know.
On quick, silent feet, she tiptoed around to the other side of the couch and leaned over the back. No movement from him, not even a finger twitch. Oh, yeah, she could march the entire beach crowd through the living room right now and he wouldn’t have the slightest idea.
Out. Cold.
She tugged lightly at the hem of his T-shirt, exposing another inch of bronzed skin, then another—
And before she drew her next breath, he grabbed her, flipped her over the back of the couch and had her pinned under him. She squeaked in alarm and as the fog of sleep cleared from his eyes, he loosened his grip.
“What were you doing?” he demanded, sleep still coating his voice in rust.
“I was only checking to see if you were awake.”
“By stripping me?” He yawned and rubbed his free hand over his face. “Huh. Interesting way to wake a guy. I feel kinda violated.”
“Liar.” Flustered, she struggled against his hold. The twinkle in his no-longer-sleepy eyes proved he was enjoying this too much. Great. What a way to give him more ammunition. “Let me up.”
He pretended to think about it for all of a half second. “Nuh-uh. I like you under me.” His hips pressed into hers and the bulge of his erection prodded her through her skirt, hit just the right spot. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning, but her body still betrayed her, arching up to meet his.
A smile inched up one side of his lips. “You like you under me.”
With his hand still on her neck, his thumb stroking back and forth over her pulse point, there was no way he couldn’t feel the way her blood pressure spiked at his words.
“You know I do, dammit. But I told you—”
“One night. Yeah.” He grumbled something under his breath, but finally rolled off her and gained his feet. Hands resting on his lean hips, his body still very aroused, he stared down at her. “You are the most frustrating woman I know.”
“Wow. That’s saying something since you’ve known scores of them.”
His jaw clenched together so hard she heard his back teeth grind. Without another word, he snapped up his phone from the end table and walked away.
Dammit. Libby sighed at herself and straightened, running her fingers through her tangled hair. Through the window, she watched him sit down on one of the loungers by the pool and check the screen of his phone. She’d only meant to aggravate him. His numerous sexual conquests bothered her so, of course, she had to keep picking away at them like a child picks at a scab.
What she couldn’t understand is why her mentioning his love life always seemed to hurt his feelings, too.
…
Three missed calls from Reece. And one from GQ, Colonel Pruitt’s uppity lawyer.
Jude blew out a breath. Just what he didn’t want to deal with right now when he had a raging case of blue balls and the only woman he wanted thought he was nothing more than man-whore.
He stole a glance inside the house, but Libby had left the living room and was nowhere to be seen.
Something had to give there. He didn’t know what, but they couldn’t keep going on like they had been.
He should talk to her. Talking had never had been something he was particularly good at or fond of—at least not when it came to the serious kind of talking that started or ended relationships, the kind that got messy with all sorts of emot
ion.
And speaking of messy…
He stared down at his phone, then hit the speed dial before he could talk himself out of it. If he didn’t return those three calls, Reece would just blow up his phone until he answered. Then things would really get messy.
Reece didn’t waste time with a greeting. “In. Your. Underwear. Really? I mean…really?”
Of all the things he’d expected this convo to be about, underwear hadn’t been anywhere on that list. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Reece all but growled. “You. On the beach. In your underwear. With a lizard. What fucking part of low fucking profile don’t you get, Jude? I mean, fuck, you’re a meme. You’re all over the Internet.”
The back of his neck heated. “All over?”
“Some tourist posted you on YouTube and it went viral.”
Jude gave himself a moment, just a moment, to wallow in the embarrassment, the shame, but then he gulped it all down and forced himself to laugh. “So I’m like an underwear model now. Maybe I’ll get a commercial deal with Hanes.”
“Jesus,” Reece said, his tone one of complete awe. “You don’t get it. You really don’t. Goddammit, Jude, Pruitt and his fucking lawyer are both riding our asses and we’re pulling all-nighters up here. There’s a woman and her family counting on you to keep her safe. A woman you supposedly cared about at one time, and you’re running around like drunken frat boy, posing for tourists? Are you really that selfish and—” He broke off, sighed. “No, I’m done yelling. I can’t deal with you anymore. I’m…done.”
Jude’s heart lodged in his throat and speech was nearly impossible around it. “Reece—”
“Greer or one of the twins will be calling so keep the phone nearby. We need to make plans to get Libby out of there.”
Oh, shit. They couldn’t take Libby out of here. It was the safest place for her. “No! No, you’re right, I screwed up again. Okay? But listen, the only people who know Libby is here with me are you guys, Seth, and Libby’s father. The lawyer doesn’t even know where we are, does he?”
Wilde Nights in Paradise Page 8