Wetwork

by Marie Harte

  “I’ve been around. Working hard.” She’d seen him just last week staring into the front of her shop. Instead of coming in to buy something, he’d waved at her and walked away. John wasn’t a bad looking man. He had dark hair and green eyes, was maybe in his early thirties, and had a ready smile for customers. But something about him put her off. She might have thought him her secret admirer, except he seemed too socially clueless to give gifts. Now if some anonymous guy had been covertly fixing her computer, she’d look straight to John.

  “Ruth and Scott bugging you?” Since he’d met Ruth and Scott and heard an earful from the both of them about their thoughts on her shop, his store, and the Green Lake district’s poor shopping selection in general, he had a right to his opinion of the pair.

  “When aren’t they bugging me?” she said with a smile, eager to end the conversation and get home. It had been a long day, and she kept wondering if Trevor would actually follow through and make that date he seemed to want.

  He sighed and clapped a hand on her shoulder, nearly knocking her over. “Oh, sorry.” He squeezed, but unlike Trevor’s hold, John’s had her feeling awkward. For all that he had a bony build, he was strong. Had to be all that typing on a keyboard making his fingers like iron. “I overheard them this afternoon. I don’t know how you put up with that. I hired my cousin once, but after a week I fired him. You’re late once, that’s one time too many, in my opinion.”

  She nodded then realized what he’d said. “You were in the shop today? I didn’t see you.”

  He shrugged and finally released her poor shoulder. “You seemed occupied, and I was so busy wolfing down my muffin I didn’t have time to talk.” He grinned, indeed looking like the big bad wolf. Then he narrowed his eyes. “So you and that guy dating?”

  “That guy?” He had to mean Trevor, because he didn’t mention Scott by name.

  Not that it was any of his business…

  He must have seen her annoyance, because he hurriedly added, “Not my concern. I know. But you’re such a sweet little thing. I worry no one’s looking out for you now that Meg’s gone.”

  She knew he meant well, though sweet little thing grated. “You and Aunt Meg were friends, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

  “Good to know.” He cleared his throat and made no move to get out of her way.

  She stepped around him and started for home. “Bye, John. Nice talking to you.” She hastened her step when she heard him following. Crap.

  “Wait. Let me walk you back.”

  “That’s okay.” And it was. Green Lake didn’t have a high crime rate, and she lived in kind of an upscale neighborhood. Heck, the only reason she could live so close to her shop was due to her inheritance from her father and aunt. Before they’d passed, she’d been living in a cheap apartment in the U District with the college kids. But thanks to the generosity of her aunt, she’d purchased the bakery, as well as afforded to live in the townhouse her father had left her. Left her, not her sister.

  Once again, pity stirred for her bitter younger sibling. Ruth might be a royal pain, but she had cause.

  John tugged her jacket and she reluctantly slowed down.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m tired and just want to get home.”

  “I get you.” He smiled, but he looked strained.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me? Fine.” He sighed. “Actually, no I’m not. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, but I never know what to say.”

  Please don’t ask me out. “I’m pretty approachable.” She kept her voice cheery, her step light while she hotfooted it home. If he meant to follow her, she didn’t see that she could stop him. But she could dissuade him from asking her on a date. “That guy you mentioned earlier, he’s Maggie’s brother. You know Maggie? The hot new artist showing her stuff at The Beholder?”

  “I think so. The cute blond?”

  “That’s her.” Maggie made the rounds frequenting local shops. For that alone Emma would have loved her. “Well, that guy is her brother. He’s super nice.” Pause. “We’re going on a date tomorrow.” Not exactly tomorrow, but it sounded soon and would put John off. She hoped.

  “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “That’s great.” He made small talk about the weather and a few customers as they walked the few blocks to her home.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as they came to her door. “Well, I’m here. Was there something you wanted to ask me?” she felt safe to ask.

  “What? Oh, it’s nothing that can’t keep.” He nodded to her. “Great talking to you again. Enjoy your date. I’ll want to hear all about it.” He winked and left.

  Hear all about it? Since when had she and John been that close? Feeling uneasy but not sure if Trevor, John, or those weird packages were the cause, she let herself into the house and had just settled into the couch when her phone buzzed.

  She checked her messages and felt giddy. Trevor wanted to take her to dinner. Tomorrow.

  “Well, at least I wasn’t lying to John.” She didn’t have to think about it. Knowing it would be a poor decision to go but unable to stop herself from texting him an okay, she sent a yes.

  Then real panic struck. What will I wear?

  Chapter Four

  Sunday evening, Trevor arrived at Emma’s house at the same time Ruth and her boyfriend parked behind him. Curious as to how Ruth might act, he waited after getting out of his car. She and Emma had no resemblance that he could see. Though Ruth had pretty eyes, her mouth seemed in a perpetual frown. Displeasure gave her a sour vibe he could feel from several feet away. And her malingering boyfriend at her back did her no favors. The guy radiated sleaze.

  Tall, dark, and slender where Emma had that blond petite cuteness working for her, Ruth could have been pretty if she stopped scowling at the world.

  “I know you,” she said.

  “You were at the bakery yesterday,” Scott added.

  “Yep.” Trevor crossed his arms over his chest, aware his tats showed. He hadn’t put on a jacket, overheating at the thought of getting Emma to himself tonight. He couldn’t explain why, but the woman still captivated him. He had a hard time thinking of anything else, and even his boss’s lecture on the merits of avoiding certain sections of Seattle had failed to make an impact. He’d worked and thought of Emma. Cooked himself dinner and though of Emma. Jacked off and thought of Emma… Then jacked off again.

  He had to work to cool his jets while Ruth and Scott stared at him. Emma had said she had a few years on her sister, yet she seemed so much older than the twenty-four she had to be. Ruth, by contrast, seemed impossibly young. Hell, she made him feel old, and he’d only passed thirty a few years ago.

  “Why are you here?” Ruth asked, confrontational.

  “To see Emma.”

  As expected, at mention of her sister, Ruth’s lips tightened. Scott didn’t seem pleased either.

  “See her? Right.” Scott snorted. “She’s probably inside already spreading her legs, waiting for what we all know she needs. Something to get that stick out of her ass, at least.”

  “Scott,” Ruth admonished.

  Before they could say anything more, and Trevor forgot himself and put the asshole’s head through his dash, Trevor turned his back on them and bounded up the short flight of steps to knock on the door.

  Emma opened it wearing a pair of jeans and a nice sweater that molded to her curves. His mouth dried as he looked her over. Damn. It had been bad enough when he’d imagined what might lay under her sweatshirt, but seeing those firm globes stretching the pink fuzzy sweater, he had a hard time reminding himself not to jump her.

  Down boy. “Hi, Emma.”

  Her sweet smile and delicate blush turned to wide-eyed unease when she glanced over his shoulder.

  “Your sister and the dickhead are here.” Probably shouldn’t have said that.

  She blinked, and he had a feeling he’d shocked the pair behind him as well. Then Emma tried to hide a smile, and he knew he hadn’t done any lasting
damage in being honest.

  “Come in.” She stepped back so he could enter.

  Unfortunately, her sister and Scott followed.

  “Did you just call my boyfriend a dickhead?” Ruth asked.

  “You’re kidding, right? After what he just said?”

  Ruth, to his surprise, said nothing. She glanced at Scott, then at him and Emma. Without another word, she left everyone to head upstairs.

  Trevor waited, praying Scott would say or do the wrong thing so he could pound the guy. He clenched his fists by his side.

  Apparently Scott read his eagerness, because he showed sense by hurrying up the stairs after Ruth. A door slammed shut and then there was silence.

  “What did I miss?” Emma asked, shocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen my sister speechless. I don’t know whether to thank you or be scared.”

  “Thank me. I don’t want you scared.” He gave her his best smile, and when she shyly returned it, he knew he had her. “Now let’s get your jacket and get out of here.”

  “Do I need a jacket? You’re not wearing one.”

  He noted how her gaze strayed to his tattoos. He’d gotten the wrist to shoulder ink last year after narrowly surviving an attempt on his life in Paris. Though he’d brought those who’d been responsible for Dana’s death to justice, the pain hadn’t faded. The tattoos had been meant to remind him that love and life were precious. And dangerous. Hearts and daggers, skulls and snakes. What did Emma think of them?

  “You like ‘em?”

  Her gaze whipped to his. “Um. Yes. Actually, I think they’re beautiful.”

  He smiled. “Handsome. Men aren’t beautiful.”

  She opened her mouth to reply then closed it. After a moment, she said softly, “They’re beautiful.”

  So are you. He took the jacket she pulled out of the closet and helped her into it. Leaning close, he caught that floral scent she favored. And as before, it turned him harder than a rock.

  “Time to go.”

  They took his car downtown to Etta’s, an expensive and tasty restaurant that had been around Seattle for years. After they’d been seated inside and ordered some wine, he leaned back in the booth and regarded her from hooded eyes. He could already tell she felt nervous. She twisted her hair and looked all around, anywhere but at him.

  Curious, he decided to try something. “Emma. Look at me,” he ordered, his voice low, demanding.

  She responded beautifully, snapping her gaze to him, her cheeks flushed. “Yes?”

  Yes, Sir. Too easily he could see her obeying him. Damn, this was going to be a long night. “You look tense. Don’t be. I’m a nice guy.”

  She raised a brow, surprising him with some spunk. “That’s what Maggie said. Then I met you.”

  He grinned. “Yeah? How have I not been nice?”

  “You called Scott a dickhead.”

  “I was being honest.”

  “You offered to beat him up.”

  “A public service we can all appreciate.”

  There. A small grin on her full lips. Their gazes locked, hers so deep and dark it was almost liquid. She glanced back down at her menu in a hurry.

  “Emma,” he growled.

  She looked up at him again, obeying instinctively, it seemed. “Trevor?”

  He liked his name on her lips. “I get that you’re shy, but you don’t need to be with me. I’d never hurt you, sweetheart.” The endearment came naturally.

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t refute his comment. She bit her lower lip. “Maggie says you’re wonderful. She really loves you.”

  “She should. The stuff I put up with from her…” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Now she’s Mac’s to handle. Unless he steps out of line. Then I’ll beat his ass—er, butt. No one treats my sister bad.”

  “Oh, that’s nice.” She smiled again. “I wish I had a brother like you.”

  He didn’t want her thinking of him like a brother, but before he could say anything more, the waiter arrived with their drinks and took their orders.

  “Get what you want, Emma. I’m buying.” He waited for her to go first. Thankfully, she chose more than a salad. He liked a woman with an appetite. After ordering the seafood special for himself, he waited for the waiter to leave. “Good choice. I was thinking of the halibut.”

  “You can have a bite of mine.”

  “And you can have mine,” he said, meaning a hell of a lot more than food. “I’m all about sharing what feels good.”

  “Feels good?” she squeaked.

  He smiled. “I meant tastes good. Taste, touch, scent, it’s all about sensation, right? That and pleasure.”

  “Er, I guess.”

  “You’d know all about that.” He gauged her reaction, seeing her innocence as well as her understanding. She might not be totally experienced, but Emma was no blushing virgin—minus the blushing part. “What with you baking and all. You taste all your creations before you put them behind that glass display, don’t you?”

  She seemed to relax and took a sip of wine. “I do. It’s a good thing I’m naturally on the small side or I’d be as big as a house with the cookie dough I consume. I admit I’m addicted.”

  He nodded and drank his wine. A nice red blend he made a note of. “Me too. I’ll be a regular in Sweets n’ Tweets for sure.”

  “Good. Tell all your friends about us.” Emma flourished under praise about her bakery or cooking. But when Trevor praised her looks, he’d noticed she didn’t know how to respond.

  “Tell me something.”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it just me you’re uncomfortable with?” She continued to lapse back into stilted silences under his regard. “Because at the party, you seemed okay with Shane and Mac.”

  “They’re with Shelby and Maggie.”

  “So it’s just single guys that throw you off? I’m not looking at you like I want to eat you, am I?” As soon as he said it, all sorts of images came to him. So not good when he was trying to be civilized and approachable.

  Fortunately, she missed the double entendre. “Well, no, but you’re very handsome.”

  “You know, that red looks good on you,” he teased about her blush. “Thanks for the compliment. But you can’t be a stranger to come-ons. You’re hot as hell.”

  The waiter brought them their meals. Trevor dug into his while Emma toyed with her food. She finally glanced up at him and answered. “I… This sounds so stupid, but I get flustered sometimes with men I might be interested in. I said might.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t get cocky.” He did his best not to smile but failed when she laughed.

  “You’re different, I admit. Sometimes with you I feel tongue-tied, but then we start talking and I forget to be shy. It’s weird.”

  “It’s good.” He took a forkful of his meal and held it to her. “Have a bite.”

  She leaned forward and closed her lips around the fork, and he saw nothing but her mouth wrapped around his cock. She must have read his expression correctly, because she leaned back in her seat and chewed, looking at him like a startled deer.

  “My turn.” He nodded at her plate and did his best to ignore the pressure on his dick.

  She drew a bit on her fork to him and held it with a shaky hand. He gripped her hand to hold her steady and watched her as he ate the bite.

  “Not bad,” he said. “I like it.”

  “Yours is better,” she admitted. “But I like my fish all the same.”

  “Are you as good a cook as you are with desserts?” he asked. “Baker, chef, not the same thing, right?”

  She explained her passion for baking and came alive. Then talk turned to him, and as much as he enjoyed the evening, he unconsciously pulled back on his answers, not wanting to give away too much.

  “Maggie told me you’re an international banker.”

  “That’s about right. I consult for American financial institutions overseas. Or at least, I did.”

  “What do you do now?”

 
He could watch her forever. He didn’t know when he’d ever been this aroused from a woman eating. “Hmm?”

  She put down her fork and blotted her mouth with her napkin. No lipstick. She had natural pink flushed lips. “Trevor?”

  “What? Oh. Now I do investigative work on financials for a private security company.”

  “Like a private detective agency?”

  “Pretty much. It’s a lot more boring than what you see on TV. My part is at least.” Not counting that encounter in the alley. “I sit behind a desk and gather information. We have agents who do the actual field work.”

  “So you don’t carry a gun or anything?” She seemed intrigued.

  The job did sound sexy. Too bad it bored the crap out of him. But after Dana, he’d been losing the will to put his life on the line for causes that blurred the line between fair and right. “No gun for me.”

  “You sure look like you could be doing field work.” She studied his forearms. “Where did you get your tattoos?”

  “In a lot of places. Africa, South America, this great place in Amsterdam…” He smiled. Not all his memories with Dana had been bad.

  After a moment, she said, “You okay?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You seem a little…I don’t know…sad under the smile.”

  He hadn’t thought he was so easy to read. “I had a friend who died, and sometimes my tattoos remind me of her.”

  She softened. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. Who wants to talk about depressing things at dinner with a beautiful woman?”

  But she wouldn’t let him tease his way out of his feelings. “When my mom died, I was heartbroken. For a long time it was just us against the world. But Aunt Meg was there too, and she helped. I loved her. When she and my dad passed, it hurt, but not as much as I’d thought. I survived losing my mom, so I could survive them.”

  He nodded. “You were close to your mom and aunt. Your dad?”