by Lori Foster
“It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Bryan said, staring at her profile, “very beautiful.” She didn’t say anything else, and that bugged Bryan. “What are you thinking about?”
“This. Us.” She gave up her perusal of the road. “I’m wondering…”
“What?”
“Does it still bother you that I’m rich?”
Stunned, Bryan realized he hadn’t really thought about the money issue. Mostly he’d concentrated on feeling deceived. But the money was something to consider. He was a working-class schmuck, making forty-five grand a year, with an occasional bonus. He lived a frugal life. He had basic tastes. Caviar? Forget it. Mercedes? In his dreams.
The thing was, he couldn’t quite picture Shay sucking down fish eggs or trolling around in fancy wheels, either. He knew her simply as Shay, the woman who made herself at home in a safe house and had makeup and tea parties with trollops and chased him to ground with incredible energy.
“Bryan?”
He shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, for lack of anything more intelligent. “How rich are you?”
“Filthy rich.”
That made him grin. She said it like an admission of murder. “You don’t act it—I mean, most wealthy people are snobs.”
“Really?” One eyebrow arched up a good inch. “How many wealthy people do you know?”
He had the grace to feel sheepish. “Uh, not many.” He could think of only a few. “I nabbed a couple of embezzlers who tried to skip town. They were rich for about two weeks. And there was this one hoity-toity broad who ran off with her Latino gardener. Took me months to track her down and drag her back, kicking and screaming like a banshee.”
“So now it’s a crime to run off with your lover?”
“Only when you clean out the accounts and steal hubby’s car to boot.” He smiled at her. “And I know you.”
“That’s a small percentage of people to use as a measuring stick. I’ve known plenty, and I can honestly say that sometimes they’re snobs, sometimes not.”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re not.”
“No. For the most part, I don’t even think about the money except in how it can help make a difference to other people. But I take it for granted, too. Like buying the women clothes…It’s easy to be generous when all you have to do is make a phone call.” She looked down at their twined hands. “It’s those people who give their time and their hearts that make a big difference.” Her gaze lifted to his. “People like you.”
“Bullshit. I was doing a con to catch a criminal, that’s all.”
“Maybe in the beginning,” she agreed. “But you’re not fooling me. You care. About all of them. About most people.”
“If that’s true, then the same can be said of you. Right from jump, you understood the women and what they needed. That takes a special kind of insight and empathy.” Damn it, now that he’d accepted how genuine she was, he didn’t want her to minimize her contributions.
Whether or not she believed him was anyone’s guess, because she changed the subject. Shifting toward him, she said, “I’ve dated off and on over the years. Some nice men, some total jerks.”
“Do I need to hear this?” Bryan hated the idea of her with other men. Her husband was one thing, but just dating for the fun of it? That rankled.
“You’re the first guy who was actually turned off by my money. Usually it’s the opposite. My money is the big draw.”
“Guys chased you for your money?” He hadn’t considered that, but it seemed likely. There were a lot of bums in the world.
She nodded. “Men look at me and all they see are dollar signs.”
Oh, for the love…He snorted. “Babe, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re incredibly sexy.”
She slanted him a skeptical look.
“Totally stacked.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Hot as hell. Beautiful.” He glanced at her, and teased, “Great rack and a killer ass.”
That made her laugh.
“Don’t you think a few guys probably chased you for that reason?”
She made a silly face. “I doubt it, but that’d be no better than the other. Looks, money, they don’t matter.”
“If you say so.”
“Do they matter to you?”
His brow arched. “I’m sure as hell not going to complain about your ass.” When she started to frown, he said, “All right, all right. Bad joke.” He drove in silence for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts, before saying, “I’ll admit it was seeing you drunk that totally reeled me in.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious. You were so adorable. You’d left yourself totally open to the women. They made you look like a deranged clown, and you didn’t mind. You looked at them and saw them as real people with real needs and hopes. You cared. And that made me look at them the same.”
A flattered blush colored her cheeks. “I had fun. More fun than I’ve ever had attending board meetings or trying to squeeze donations out of my acquaintances. In fact, I’ve been thinking of pawning that part of the job off on Dawn. She’s so diplomatic, so easy to be around. She’d be perfect for that end of things.”
“I like her.” Dawn was a bossy little woman who obviously cared a lot about Shay. And truthfully, he loved the idea of Shay having more time for him.
“Dawn likes you, too—now that I explained everything to her. She saw right off that you were different from any other guy I know.”
“Because I’m poor?” She scoffed, but Bryan said, “I’m serious, Shay. The money issue runs both ways. You’re in the social spotlight a lot, whereas I’m a social misfit.”
Her smile went crooked. “At least I know you don’t want me for my money.”
“And because of that, you’ll overlook the rest?”
She moved her hand to his thigh. “There’s also the fact that you’re an incredible lover.”
His heart jumped. “Glad you noticed.”
“So much modesty.” She traced little circles on his thigh. “But you know, I do have one complaint.”
“Yeah?” His testicles tightened. “What’s that?”
Her fingers inched higher, coming dangerously close to the peril point.
“Careful there.” He caught her wrist.
“There, you see?”
“I see that I’m trying to drive and you’re trying to make me wreck.” It never took much for him to get hard around Shay. A look. A smile. Put her hand millimeters away from his cock, and he was a goner.
He shifted uncomfortably in the restrictive jeans.
“You always take control, Bryan.” Shay strained against his hold. “But I want to touch you, too.”
A wave of heat swelled and shuddered through him and he nearly groaned. “Fine. You can touch all you want.” Yes. “But later. When we’re in bed. Or at least not in a car.”
“You say that now. But you always end up doing stuff to me instead.” He didn’t really put his all in holding her back, and her hand slid up another inch.
Her fingertips touched his scrotum, then gently cupped him.
“Jesus, Shay, honey, give a guy a break, okay?” But he didn’t move her hand, and he could have. Hell, he had eighty pounds of muscle on her. He was hard and she was soft and he liked it that she wanted to touch him.
She skirted closer to him, straining her seat belt. Her breasts pressed into his right biceps. In a husky whisper, she said, “You know how you kissed me?”
His jaw clenched. Don’t ask, don’t ask…“How?”
She ducked her head, hesitated, then whispered, “Between my legs?”
Oh, shit. His fingers locked around the steering wheel, and his voice went deep and hoarse and raw. “I love how you taste, baby. Especially when you’re primed and nearly there and so damn wet—”
Her fingers smashed over his lips. Her fast, hot breath pelted his throat. “Shush, Bryan.” She sounded as affected as he felt. “I’m trying to tell you t
hat I want to kiss you like that, too.”
Lust hit him like a ton of bricks. If he’d been standing, his knees would have buckled. Shay’s mouth on him, sucking, licking? He’d never survive it.
“I want to pleasure you,” she whispered, as if she wasn’t killing him by small degrees, “the same way you pleasured me.”
“Not the same,” he groaned.
“I know. It’d definitely be different when you come.”
He needed to lie down somewhere.
“But the idea of taking you in my mouth is exciting. I’ve never done that to anyone before.” Her fingers curled around his erection, nearly stopping his heart. “But I’m dying to do it to you.”
“Fuck it.” He couldn’t drive. Hell, he could barely see. “Let’s find someplace to pull over. Anyplace. You don’t mind a few weeds, do you?”
He sped around the corner, his gaze searching the side of the road for a clearing, and Shay’s attention caught on something through the windshield.
She gawked. “Bryan!”
Thank God for sharp reflexes. He saw the man in the road at almost the same time she did. Despite being a little sluggish, thanks to an iron boner, he slammed on his brakes. Gravel and dirt went flying. The car skidded sideways, the tires finally found purchase, and they stopped—about six feet away from the idiot in the road.
Too close, as far as Bryan was concerned.
Without a care in the world, Jamie Creed, the insane recluse, slowly pushed to his feet. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning. He looked as enigmatic as ever.
And he had eyes only for Shay.
In a fury, Bryan shoved the gears into park. He yanked off his seat belt, jerked out of the car and slammed the door behind him.
“God damn it,” he roared, “if you want to get killed, do it on someone else’s time!”
Serenity personified, Jamie said, “I had to make sure you’d stop.”
Bryan drew himself up. Strangling Jamie would make him feel better, but he had to admit, Jamie was right. If he’d seen him on the side of the road, he would have driven right on by. Not only did he dislike Jamie, but there was that tantalizing suggestion Shay had made. All he needed was a modicum of privacy.
Anger hadn’t rid him of his erection. He should get back in his car, drive away…
Shay sidled up next to him. “Bryan?”
Oh, hell. He didn’t want Shay to meet Jamie. She was in an especially amorous mood at the moment, and women in general tended to see Jamie as a mysterious, romantic figure. If Shay started fluttering her damn eyelashes or swooning, he’d lose it. “Wait in the car.”
Her wide-eyed gaze swiveled from Jamie to Bryan, and then narrowed with simmering temper. “Wait in the car?” Her tone was lethal. “No, I don’t think so.”
Now Jamie smiled. He stepped closer, circling Shay, checking her out up and down and sideways.
A red haze collected in front of Bryan’s vision. “I’m going to break your nose.”
Jamie didn’t even spare Bryan a glance. “No, you’re not.”
Bryan slumped. No, he probably wasn’t.
Jamie circled once more, then stopped in front of Shay, his obsidian eyes direct, his mouth flat and unemotional. “She’s the one.”
Shay swallowed, blinked twice. “I am?” With so much unwavering attention on her, she twittered nervously.
Maybe he would break his nose after all. “Hell, no.”
Bryan grabbed Jamie by the front of the shirt and jerked him around. They were of a similar height, but Bryan had him on meanness, no two ways about it. His lips were so tight, he barely squeezed the words out.
“Don’t start with that cryptic bullshit, Jamie. Shay had nothing to do with it.” Bryan shook him. “Do you hear me?”
Jamie tilted his head—and closed his hand around Bryan’s wrist. His grip was stronger than a hermit’s should be. “You misunderstand.”
“The hell I do.” Bryan struggled to keep his tone below a shout. “You said a woman was involved.”
“One is.”
His head throbbed. “It’s not Shay.”
“No. It’s not.”
One good punch, that’s all it’d take. “Then why did you just—”
“I said she was the one. The one you’ll stay with. The one for you.” When Bryan stared, with a blank expression on his face, Jamie sighed. “The perfect one.” Jamie didn’t smile, but Bryan still caught his amusement. It showed in his blacker than black eyes. “Your soul mate.”
Oh, hell. Bryan glanced at Shay, curious as to how she’d take that bit of sage prophecy concerning their future, but she was too busy ogling Jamie to react.
And Jamie didn’t seem to mind.
“You’re good for him,” Jamie told her. He leaned closer and in a stage whisper, said, “Don’t give up.”
Shay twittered again. “No, I won’t.”
Bryan wanted to puke. He wanted to toss Shay’s sexy twittering ass back into the car. He wanted to pulverize Jamie.
Why did full-grown, mature, reasonable women act like giggly little girls whenever Jamie showed up? It sure as hell couldn’t be his thick mountain-man beard or his stilted conversational skills. And he wasn’t exactly a slave to fashion. Today his dark hair was pulled back into an unkempt ponytail. He wore a plain gray T-shirt, which was probably one of three T-shirts that he owned: white, gray and black. According to the weather, he sometimes had a frayed flannel over the T-shirt. His jeans had to be ten years old, because no way had he paid extra for the “fashionably worn” look. His brown leather lace-up boots were sturdy, meant for hiking up and down the damned mountain, whenever the mood struck him to annoy the males of Visitation.
Bryan didn’t want to, but he had to ask. “So you still think a woman is involved?”
Where Jamie was concerned, there was no “think” about it. He gave an emphatic reply. “One is.”
“Amy?”
Shrugging, Jamie pulled Bryan’s hand away from the front of his shirt. “Describe her.”
Shay hurried to do his bidding. “Shy, slim, blond with green eyes—”
“No. It’s not her.”
Fascinated, Shay said, “Thank God.” Then: “So who is it?”
Bryan’s jaw fell open. “You believe him? Just like that?”
“Don’t you?”
Damn it, he sort of did.
Ignoring them both, his head down, his hands in his back pockets, Jamie paced a small circle in the road. “I don’t know yet. But she’ll come to you when you need her.”
“When I need her?” Bryan shared a quizzical glance with Shay. “What the hell does that mean?”
Jamie shrugged again. “I don’t—”
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t know.” Bryan caught Shay’s arm. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” He took two long steps, hauling Shay with him.
“The real threat is a man.”
Ignore him, ignore him, ignore…Bryan did an about-face. “What man?”
“Not one you’d expect.” Jamie rubbed his head, deep in thought. It was almost eerie to watch him, as if you could see the visions passing before him.
Idiotic.
“Are you done?”
Jamie nodded. “Yes. It’ll all be okay. I’m not worried now.”
“Well, gee, you’re not worried? What a relief.” Sarcasm dripped from Bryan’s every word. “I’ll just tell Joe to forget the whole thing, then.”
“No, you won’t.” Sarcasm never bothered Jamie.
Shay pressed forward. “Could you call us if you think of anything else?”
As if he’d forgotten she was there, Jamie glanced up, and slowly his expression cleared. “Can’t. I don’t have a phone.” He turned and started down the road. He headed into the bright red setting sun, and it made a black silhouette of his lean body.
Incredulous, Shay blinked. Mindful of Jamie’s nonexistent feelings, she leaned in close to whisper, “He doesn’t have a phone?”
“Nope.” He half grinned. “No c
ar, either. He lives up on that mountain somewhere, all by himself. I told you he was strange.”
Of course, she got defensive. “I like him.”
“You like everyone.”
“Including you?” Her tone dared him to explain that one—and he couldn’t. He had no idea what she saw in him. Annoyed, Shay said, “The very least you could do is thank him.”
“Not possible.” Bryan propped his hands on his hips and contemplated the cloudless sky, which was now a dusky gray. Sweat gathered on his shoulder blades and in the middle of his chest. It was a damn hot evening.
“No? Why not?”
He took great satisfaction in saying, “He’s gone.”
Shay whipped around, searched the area, and then asked in surprise, “Where’d he go?”
“Who the hell knows? Who cares?” Done with Jamie Creed for the moment, Bryan caught her hand and pulled her back to the car. “He does that disappearing trick all the time. One minute he’s there, and the next, poof. He’s gone. It’s annoying. He’s annoying. Let’s go. I’m getting hungry, and Joe Winston isn’t a man to be kept waiting. Not for dinner, and not for anything else.”
And after dinner, when he got Shay alone at his trailer, he’d remind her of what she wanted to do to him. He had a feeling he’d be semihard until then.
Even though he looked nothing like she’d imagined, Shay recognized Joe Winston the second they pulled down the long gravel drive. Whenever Bryan spoke of him, he’d sounded…meaner. Not that she knew anything about Joe’s temperament, of course. But right now, standing there waiting for them, he looked domestic and friendly, not at all like a convict.
She’d half expected him to be scarred, to maybe heave with menace, to snarl like a rabid dog. This man was smiling—and he was incredibly, knock-you-off-your-feet gorgeous.
He had one long, heavily muscled arm draped around a woman, presumably his wife. Two kids hovered on the porch behind them—a young, pretty girl on the steps and a boy in a porch swing. Both kids had the palest blond hair Shay had ever seen. The girl’s was long and shiny, the boy’s short and mussed.