MidnightInk-epub

by MI

  Jennifer was different from the usual Midnight Ink clientele. She didn’t want the tattoo to hide past scars. Many people—male and female—used body art to conceal terrible wounds, physical and emotional. Caliph understood their reasons, felt their pain, and always prayed his art would somehow help them find peace again.

  Neither was she trying to draw attention to herself, to appear tough or in-your-face or cool, which, sadly, seemed to be the reason for getting a tat amongst a lot of the younger clients. Caliph suspected Jennifer spent most of her time trying to blend into the background. Which meant her trip to his chair had taken a great deal of courage on her part.

  No. Jennifer wasn’t trying to hide from her pain or make a big flashy statement. Instead she was incorporating her past failures into the picture, including them as a part of the canvas in an effort to make her stronger, smarter.

  He thought about her ex-husband. He had the insane urge to find the asshole and beat him to a pulp for the way he’d damaged Jennifer’s self-esteem. It was clear she was a compassionate woman and it pissed him off to see her feeling badly about herself. While she put up a tough front, pain still lingered in her eyes. Her trusting nature as well as her faith in herself had been shaken. Hard.

  “You like jazz?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Isn’t that sort of a prerequisite for living in New Orleans?”

  Caliph chuckled. “I know plenty of people who hate it. Tasteless bastards. You ever heard of the Jazz Parlor?”

  “In the French Quarter?”

  “Yeah. There’s a guy playing there Friday night, Jeremy ‘Trombone’ Lionel.”

  “Let me guess. He plays the trombone.”

  Caliph rolled his eyes. “He’s one of the best I’ve ever heard. You wanna go?”

  “With you?” Jennifer winced as soon as the question passed her lips. It was an endearing expression that he was starting to become accustomed to. Her mouth seemed to kick in before her brain at times, treating him to her real thoughts. It was refreshing, nice. With Jennifer, you got what you saw. That wasn’t true of most women and he found he preferred the unfiltered view.

  “Sassy is coming and my brother, Justin, too. So you don’t have to worry about me putting the moves on you.” For a second he thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her pretty blue eyes. The look encouraged him to add, “Much.”

  Her smile reflected pure, genuine happiness and Caliph struggled to catch his breath. Something strange stirred in his gut. It was like he’d been sucker punched, but he didn’t feel like hitting back.

  “I’d love to go. Thank you for the invitation. Should I just meet you here? Friday night?”

  He nodded slowly, pleased by her quick response. She didn’t employ any of those female games where she had to pretend to think about it so as not to appear too anxious. Jennifer didn’t even try to hide the fact she was excited. “Yeah. Eight o’clock work for you?”

  “Yep. It sure does.” She was still lying on the table, though he’d put the tattoo gun down, his work finished. She bit her lower lip nervously. “Can I look at it now?”

  Caliph had been purposely stalling. Not that he thought the tattoo looked bad. In his opinion, it was some of his best work. Knowing what the flower represented to Jennifer had encouraged him to enhance the original drawing, making sure the image would allow her to find that strength and love she was seeking.

  “Of course you can.” He placed a firm hand on her arm, not mistaking the slight shudder his touch provoked. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt her tremble under his fingers. At first, he’d blamed it on fear—he was used to women’s frightened responses to him, he was no pretty boy and he knew it—but Jennifer’s trusting eyes and flushed face made him wonder if her response was based on something far different.

  His stomach clenched again and this time he recognized the cause. Lust. Pure. Unbridled. His cock thickened slightly despite his attempts to will it away with deep, steadying breaths.

  Jennifer sat up slowly, hastily tugging up her tube top. Her modesty was cute. It made Caliph want to peel her clothing away slowly, revealing one creamy inch of skin at a time. Her body was sumptuous, though he suspected she probably considered herself fat. Society had done a real number on women with curves in the last fifty years, trying to convince them that stick figures were desirable. Fuck that. As far as he was concerned, Jennifer’s generous hourglass was the standard for true feminine beauty.

  She followed as he led her to the large mirror hanging against the back wall. He placed a handheld mirror in her hands, watching nervously as she studied the reflection.

  “You didn’t bleed very much. I have an A and D ointment here that I’ll put on before I cover it. Sassy has flyers on her desk that will give you instructions for aftercare. I want you to follow them to the letter.” Caliph stuck his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and forced himself to stop rambling. Her silence made him nervous. Christ. He never got this worked up over a client’s reaction to a tat. According to Shep, he had more than his fair share of cockiness when it came to his work. Unfortunately that confidence was on shaky ground at the moment.

  Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Jen?”

  She looked at him—that was when he noticed the tears in her eyes. Oh hell, did she hate it? He’d seen clients cry before, overwhelmed by their first tattoo. But he couldn’t stand the thought that maybe she was genuinely upset.

  He took the mirror from her and placed it on the counter, then he grasped her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Aw, hell, honey. I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t be. It’s just—”

  “You were nervous about the tat. Second-guessing your decision. I should have told you to go home and sleep on it.”

  “No.” Her grip on his hands tightened. “I love it.”

  He studied her face, trying to decide if she was lying just to assuage his guilty conscience. As always, he saw nothing but honesty in her gaze. “You do?”

  She gave him a wobbly smile, her tears overflowing. “Oh my God, yes. It’s even better than I imagined. It’s perfect.”

  Caliph rubbed his jaw, relief suffusing him. “Damn, girl. You scared the shit out of me.”

  Jennifer laughed, then picked up the mirror once more, taking even longer to admire her new look. The pleasure in her eyes warmed him.

  Shep walked over to join them, studying the tat. “Nice work, Cal. That’s a beaut.”

  Caliph nodded, barely acknowledging Shep’s compliment. He was more interested in watching Jennifer.

  Then he heard Shep mutter something like “aw jeez, here we go” and Caliph’s attention turned back to his friend. “What?”

  Shep rolled his eyes at Caliph’s confusion, then looked at Jennifer. “Congratulations. It’s a great tattoo.”

  Jennifer smiled widely. “Thanks.”

  Shep returned to his chair as Caliph led Jennifer back to his. Obviously Caliph hadn’t managed to mask his attraction to Jennifer from his friend. One of the dangers of working with the same people for so long. The artists in the shop spent too much damn time together. Sometimes it was nice to have such fierce friends at his back, but most of the time it was a pain in the ass. Shep was definitely going to give him shit for this, tease him about getting the hots for the quiet, conservative hotel manager.

  Caliph picked up a tube of ointment and turned Jennifer away from him. As he squeezed some onto a stick, he felt her quiver and he had to resist the impulse to lean forward and place a kiss on the back of her slim neck. He spread the lotion onto her skin.

  While he worked, he briefly ran through a mental list of reasons why he shouldn’t start an affair with Jennifer.

  For one thing, the pain from her divorce was present and though she had a good attitude in regards to moving on, she still had a ways to go. Besides, he wasn’t looking for a relationship and certainly didn’t want to end up hurting her like her ex had.

  They were also different people. Jennifer was clea
rly conservative, reserved. He wasn’t sure how she’d respond to his impulsiveness, his tendency to live in the moment. Jennifer didn’t strike him as someone who’d find that an easy thing to deal with even for the short-term.

  He also wasn’t sure what she’d make of their age difference—he was thirty-two to her nearly forty. While she didn’t seem hung up on the numbers, Caliph didn’t know how she’d feel about sleeping with a younger man. Then, he dismissed that thought as unimportant.

  Because there was one way in which she was definitely wrong for him. She may have been married for seventeen years, but he had no doubt her adventures in the bedroom didn’t extend much beyond missionary. Compared to him, she was an innocent.

  Caliph couldn’t remember the last time he’d had missionary sex. His desires ran along a much different path. He pictured taking Jennifer to the Bastille, a local sex club. He liked the idea of exposing her to that world to see if his suspicions about her sexually submissive nature were true. Her blushes and trembles when he touched her, the way her eyes lowered whenever he asked her to do something, the tiny ways she deferred to him, all combined together in such a way that had him longing to tie her to his bed and fuck her senseless.

  Then he imagined Jennifer taking one look at the dark, intimidating sex club with its St. Andrew’s crosses and wooden posts with eyebolts and chains. She’d most likely scream as she ran from the room.

  Or would she?

  Her mention of a safe word earlier threw him. Made him wonder.

  And want.

  He covered her tattoo with plastic wrap, then he reached for the blouse she’d worn to the shop. He helped put it on, pleased when she turned to face him, allowing him to button it for her.

  His excuses for avoiding sex with her fled the instant her pretty blue eyes met his. Jennifer may have been hurt by her ex, but the asshole’s cruelty hadn’t killed her spirit. The same desire he felt was reflected in her face. Jesus. She wanted him.

  “Thanks,” she said softly when he’d fastened the last button.

  He didn’t release the material. He heard Shep talking to his client, a regular, neither man paying attention to them. Sassy had returned from running errands an hour ago and was in the back room. No one else was working yet, the other artists choosing to work later shifts.

  Jennifer held his gaze. “Caliph?” she whispered when the silence continued a beat too long.

  “How wild do you want to go?”

  She frowned, then gave him a rueful grin. “I love my tattoo more than I can say, but I’m definitely not ready for another.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” He lowered his voice. “I’m attracted to you, Jen.”

  She licked her lips, the action a perfect blend of nervousness and arousal. Caliph’s cock thickened even more.

  “I want you too.” Her admission came out more air than tone, but he heard it, let the beauty of it soak deep.

  “Friday night, after the jazz club.” He didn’t say more. He didn’t need to. Jennifer was already nodding.

  “Okay. I’d like that.”

  “So would I.”

  Then her brow furrowed. That didn’t take long. Less than five seconds in and she was already reconsidering.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he prodded.

  “I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

  Caliph was touched by her honesty, but bothered by it as well. That list of reasons he should have stayed away rained down on him again. Women like her didn’t do casual sex, but he was pretty damn sure that was all he had to give her. He hadn’t lied about his disinterest in marriage. “Jennifer—”

  He started to offer her an out, but she cut him off.

  “No. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thing. I might be putting the pieces back together, Caliph, but the truth of it is, I’m still pretty broken. At this point in my life, I have basically nothing, but sex to give you. Besides, something tells me you’d be a great guy to go wild with.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad you have such faith in my abilities. I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

  She laughed. “I’m not worried.”

  Caliph knew he should take her agreement to sleep with him and run with it, but he couldn’t lie to her when she looked at him with those gorgeous, trusting eyes. She needed to know exactly what she was agreeing to.

  “Maybe you should be. Because, Jen, you will need a safe word Friday night.”

  Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, but she held her ground. His respect for her went up several more notches.

  “Does it make me sound completely twisted if I say that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me?”

  He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re a fascinating woman, Jen. And I can’t wait to paint on your canvas some more.”

  Chapter Three

  Jennifer leaned back in her chair and wished the soft, mellow music would work its magic on her. As it was, she was a bundle of nerves and pent-up hormones. Ever since Caliph issued his invitation to the club—and everything that would come after—she’d found it impossible to think about anything else. Her work was suffering. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours each night and the woman who never missed a meal was suddenly living on only a couple of bites here and there.

  In a word, she was a mess.

  Caliph reached under the table and placed a firm hand on her knee to still her rapidly bouncing leg.

  She glanced at him. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  When they’d entered the club, Caliph had escorted her to a table along a side wall. He’d wasted no time pulling his chair as close to hers as possible. Sassy had come with them, but within minutes of arriving, she’d run into other friends. Jennifer glanced over to the bar and saw the vivacious woman laughing and talking. Jennifer wished she felt even half as carefree at the moment.

  Caliph squeezed her knee gently. “Relax, Jen.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that was easier said than done, but before she could speak, a man approached their table.

  “There you are. Sorry I’m late, Cal. Fucking work is insane right now. We landed three big clients, so I’m in deadline hell.” The man plopped into a chair across from them. “Hey. You must be Jennifer. I’m Justin.”

  Jennifer took the man’s outstretched hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

  Caliph pushed the extra Guinness he’d ordered toward his brother. “Here. Had the waitress bring this over when you texted to say you were on your way. Figured you could use a cold one.”

  Justin smiled and muttered a quick word of thanks before taking a drink.

  Jennifer was struck by how different the men were. Where Caliph was a huge, hulking figure with his smooth, shaved head, tattooed skin and tight black T-shirt, Justin was long, lean and clean-cut with an expensive hairstyle, conservative shirt and new jeans. Caliph was linebacker to his brother’s point guard, and besides their height, she was hard-pressed to find one physical similarity between them.

  Caliph must have noticed her attempt. “Don’t bother trying. Justin’s my half-brother and, according to our mom, he’s the spitting image of his old man, while I’m the mirror image of mine.”

  Justin chuckled. “Pisses her off too. Says it’s not fair that none of her kids got even a speck of her good looks.”

  They all laughed.

  “I can’t decide if I want to meet your mother or not. She seems like a force to be reckoned with,” Jennifer joked.

  Caliph put his arm around her shoulder, the close proximity doing funny things to her libido. Jennifer struggled to keep cool, but had no doubt her flushed face was giving her away to both men at the table. “Don’t worry, Jen. I’d protect you from her.”

  Justin snorted. “Yeah right. Just admit you’re afraid of her too. Hell, we all are. When Meg Lewis says move, you better believe everybody in the house goes into motion.”

  “Everybody? You have other brother
s and sisters?” As she asked the question, she realized how little she really knew about Caliph. This was only the third time she’d even seen the man and she’d agreed to have sex with him. Responsible Jennifer would never have dreamed of jumping into bed with a stranger, yet the decision to sleep with Caliph had been surprisingly easy. And it occurred to her that most of her nervousness wasn’t based on fear, but anticipation.

  “My mom had four kids, Justin’s the oldest, then me, then our brother Jett. Chloe is the only girl and the baby.”

  “Which means she’s spoiled rotten,” Justin added.

  Jennifer could tell from their expressions both men adored their kid sister.

  Caliph ran his finger along the nape of her neck and Jennifer resisted the urge to shudder…and purr. “But the family is actually bigger than that.”

  Justin took a swig of beer and put the glass back down. “Mom has taken in a lot of foster kids over the years. She was a social worker before she got married. After she started having kids, she quit her job.”

  “Her workdays were unbelievably long and she didn’t want to be away from us for so many hours every day,” Caliph continued. “Of course, she also couldn’t stand the thought of other kids out there who needed a safe place to stay.”

  “Over the years, we’ve had six foster brothers and sisters live with us, off and on, depending on how much the system wanted to fuck with them.” Justin’s tone didn’t mask his disgust and Caliph’s expression proved he felt the same way.

  She could imagine how hard it would be to bring a child into your home only to have the courts yank them back out to return them somewhere less safe. Jennifer smiled sympathetically. “Your mom sounds great. What about your dad…or sorry, dads?”

  Justin chuckled. “I was an oops during my parents’ senior year at college. They never got married, but I know my dad. He’s still around. Papa Lewis is the one she married.”