And it didn’t help one damn iota. Yay me.
I opened the third bottle of wine, but the cork broke, so there’d be no juggling after all. I moved my private party into the living room and the dogs both climbed into my lap the minute I sat down. I noticed that I’d forgotten my glass in the kitchen. “Screw it,” I mumbled and put the bottle to my lips.
I don’t remember even finding the remote, but at some point before I fell asleep, I must have, because the TV was on when Jen’s ringtone woke me up.
I guess I sounded funny, because the first thing she said was, “Are you okay?”
Shouldn’t that have been my question?
“Right as rain. Me an’ the dogs are havin’ some wine.”
“You’re giving them wine?”
“Technally, no. I’m drinking the wine, and they’re layin’ all over me.”
“You sound like you’ve had more than just some.”
“Pffft. How’s your dad?” Deft change of subject, if I do say so myself.
“Griping that he wants to go home. They’re running tests and making him stay overnight.”
“So maybe it wasn’t a heart attack?”
“They’re not sure yet, but if you ask me, he’s fine. My mom actually looked relieved when he started in with his complaining.”
“Feisty’s always a good sign. Takes after his daughter.”
“What?”
“Nebbermind. Are you holding up okay, babe?”
She was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if my phone had dropped the call. “You have had a lot of wine.”
Was she laughing at me? “Thass irrevelant. You didn’t answer my question.”
I swear to God, I heard her eyes roll. “Yes, babe, I’m emotionally wiped out, and ready for bed, but I’m alright.”
That’s when I realized what I’d called her. “Should I have not said that? ‘Cause it just slipped out.”
“It’s okay,” she said on a laugh. “I kind of liked it.”
She said she’d call when she knew more, and we hung up. I stared at the screen on my phone until it went black and then went back to the wine.
Who turned up the sun, and why has my tongue been replaced with a dead ferret? Squinting against what surely had to be a nuclear blast outside my closed window blinds, I tested my ability to move without shattering my skull. Ugh. It felt like an axe to the brain, but at least my head still seemed to be attached. I ventured further upright ‘cause, God, I needed to get to the aspirin, and it was four hundred miles away in the kitchen.
Cursing myself for drinking a vat of wine and not having the foresight to bring the Excedrin bottle to bed with me, I schlepped my sorry ass down the hall.
And found three empties on the coffee table.
No wonder I felt like refurbished zombie shit.
“This,” I said out loud and immediately regretted, “is why I should stick to beer.” I’d switched to a mumble and even that wasn’t quiet enough.
I needed to get myself together before Jensen checked in.
I downed six aspirin with an entire icy can of Pepsi and left the kitchen, thinking that a shower should fix me right up.
But first, I’d take a little rest on the couch.
***
“Spicy meatballs and too much golf.” Jensen’s laugh came through the phone loud and clear and thank God for the Excedrin, because the sound didn’t completely spear my brain. “Can you believe that? They sent Dad home with a muscle relaxant for his shoulder and a roll of Tums.”
“I’m glad he’s okay,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut until they watered. “I was worried for you.”
“I don’t understand how anyone could mistake heartburn for a heart attack. I’m not going to let him live this down.”
I smiled. And hey, it didn’t hurt. Much.
“Which means–”
Jen laughed softly. “I’ll be giving him a box of antacid for his birthday. And a stockingful at Christmas.”
“You could sign him up for auto-shipping from Amazon.” The sound of my own voice was almost not painful.
She giggled, and that didn’t hurt, either. “He’ll kill me. So I have to do it.”
“Remind me not to get sick around you.” What do you know, I was feeling almost completely better since answering my phone.
“Oh, you’re fair game and you know it.”
“You’d be that cruel to me?”
“It’s one of my charms.”
“Your many charms,” I replied, my voice dropping lower. “But I like some of your other ones better.”
I heard her breathing speed up. “Do tell.”
“Maybe. Where are you?”
“Sitting in my mother’s kitchen.”
“Then I’d better keep it PG.”
“I could move.” She actually sounded eager to.
“Too late. Now, where to begin?” My pulse was pounding in my ears and my voice had taken on a rough edge that I couldn’t keep in check. “I know. I’ll start with your eyes. Did you know they have tiny flecks of green that sparkle when you smile?”
I heard a tiny gasp, and I guessed she was hearing the same hoarseness I was. “I never knew you noticed them.”
“They’re beautiful. So’s your smile. I never understood the saying ‘lights up a room’ until I saw you smile. Now I’ll never hear that phrase without seeing your face.”
“You sound... different,” she breathed, “God, Tack, it’s...” She trailed off and I wondered if someone had walked into the room.
“You like it? This is my Talking to Jensen voice. It shows up when I’m around you.”
“I don’t think that’s the only thing that shows up.”
“Do you really want to go there in your parent’s kitchen? ‘Cause I’m touching myself right now, and I’d be happy to share the details.” I wasn’t, but I wanted to hear her reaction.
“Oh.” It came out more like a sigh.
Now I really was getting ready to take a grab at Tack Junior. “You’re killing me here, Jen. I’m not going to be able to keep this PG if you keep making noises like that.” And that was the truth, so fuck me God. If she really wanted phone sex… score another Tack-first for Jen MacKenzie. I’d be happy to give it a go with her whispering in my ear.
“In that case, it’s best if I hang up, Tack.”
Dammit.
Chapter 14
*Shot Through The Heart*
“Your dog is weird,” I said as I sped down the freeway onramp after leaving the airport. “I woke up this morning and freaked, ‘cause I couldn’t find him.”
“Was he under the blankets by your feet?” She laughed and said, “It’s his favorite place.”
“Last I’d seen of him, he was next to me on the bed. I thought I’d squished him.”
“Nah, he’s good at keeping himself out of the danger zone. After tonight, though, you won’t have to worry about where he’s sleeping.”
“Yeah, well, about that,” I said. “The exterminator came by the house this morning.”
“On a Sunday? That’s strange.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Until he showed me the wood samples they’d taken. He wanted to make sure, as he put it, ‘you were making an informed decision before ever going inside again.’”
“What?”
“That’s pretty much what I said.” I reached over and gave her fingers a squeeze before spilling the rest of the news. “I looked at the plugs of wood, Jen. It’s a wonder the place is standing. I’m sorry.” I had really wanted to wait with this until we were home and I could show her what that condo was made of. It was little more than sawdust glued together with termite spit.
“That son of bitch owner said he got an inspection before putting it up for sale, and then acted so astounded that the whole building had to be tented. If my neighbor hadn’t found termites flying around his bathroom, I’d have never known.” She snorted. “Until my bathtub crashed through the kitchen ceiling or something.”
&
nbsp; “The exterminator said this kind of damage takes years. He had to have known.”
“Well, he can take his lease-purchase and shove it, now. I’m afraid of even going back inside to move out. And where am I going to go?”
“You’ll stay with me. There’s plenty of room in the garage for all your stuff.” I’d had time to think this through, and liked the idea of Jensen sharing my roof–not that I was ready to share that bit of information with her. This was the total antithesis of how I envisioned asking her to move in for the foreseeable future.
We were still flying along the freeway, but I had to know. I risked a sideways glance; she was chewing on her bottom lip. “Take all the time you need to find the right place. And Lita loves Angus.”
“I hate to impose.”
“This is coming from the same the person who invited herself to stay with me for a week?” I laughed.
True to form, she smacked my leg. “Just roommates, then?” She sounded doubtful.
“Very friendly roommates.” That earned me another smack higher up my thigh, but this time, she left her hand there.
“My mom was bugging me to move closer,” Jen said as she stole another chunk of sausage from the pizza on my plate. “The whole time I was there, she kept on me about my dad’s failing health.”
“I thought he was fine.” I slid the plate a little closer to my side of the table. We’d ordered an extra-large and there was still half of it left for her to pick at.
“Oh, he is. They’re getting older, though, and I think they’re beginning to feel kinda mortal.” She flipped back the top of the box and began stripping a slice. “It was all this time he’s okay, but…”
“So why don’t they move here, where you are?”
She sighed and stuffed a wad of cheese into her mouth. I probably shouldn’t have been aroused by that. “Retiring to Phoenix was their goal for years. They’d feel like they failed or something.”
“You’re still not far away.”
“I know… but now, with my condo deal collapsing, that afternoon slot in Phoenix is beginning to look like an option.”
She did not just drop that on me.
“I mean, between that and my dad, it’s like the universe is trying to tell me that that’s where I should be.”
My racing heartbeat thundered in my ears, even while I reminded myself that she was just tossing around possibilities. “Indigestion and termites are not signs from God, Jen.”
“BK said the offer stood until the end of the day tomorrow. I really should think about this seriously, Tack. It’s like a puzzle coming together at last.”
She didn’t have to come right out and say that I wasn’t one of the pieces.
Later, when we cuddled up in my room, watching TV until she fell asleep with her head on my chest, I couldn’t believe my blind luck at finally finding the only woman I wanted to do this with. And I wondered what I’d done to piss off the heavens that they might scheme to take her away from me.
***
Scratch the might.
“You what? When? I never saw you talking to the boss–we were together all morning.” Nice bomb-drop, baby. And such timing, while we’re clearing space in the garage to make room for everything you own.
Jen put her hands on her ass, arching her back to get the kinks out. I was too stupefied to enjoy the view. “I sent an email to BK right before the end of our show. I have to report there in two weeks.”
“I don’t believe this.”
“Becca and I are doing her last week as a twosome.”
“Who the hell is Becca?”
“The jock in Phoenix who is leaving radio to stay home with her kids.” Jensen cocked an eyebrow at me. “The person who currently has the timeslot that I’m taking over,” she said, very slowly like I was the idiot. “Tack, quit focusing on the irrelevant minutiae and listen to me: We have two weeks. We should make them count.”
Oh, sweetheart, I intend to. Because you are not leaving—you just fucking got here.
But I didn’t say any of that. I was too focused on growling and shoving an entire stack of boxed crap to the back wall.
By dinnertime, I knew The Almighty hated me. He said, Here you go, Tack. I present you with a woman who won’t take your bullshit, isn’t fazed by the personality you put on for the public, nor by your charm, is smarter than you, nicer than you, and has the face of one of my angels. She keeps you on your toes, keeps you interested, and is built like a pole-dancer in a high-end strip club. Now, have you set aside everything you’ve believed to be true about yourself and let her see the real Tack Morgan that nobody knows? Fantastic. I’ll be taking her away now.
We were both dusty and gritty, so when Jen grabbed me by the front button of my jeans and dragged me toward the shower, I followed like a puppy. And when she stripped off my shirt, I pulled her into a kiss that short-circuited my brain and had her grappling with my fly.
It was the moment that she dropped to her knees in front of me under the steamy spray and took me into her mouth that I knew, not only was she the one for me, but that I would do anything and everything I could think of to keep her in this city.
Because my God did she have a mouth on her.
I remember falling back against the wall of the shower and trying to find something to hang onto. I was knocking shampoo bottles everywhere and, finally, my hands landed on her head. She did this scraping thing with her teeth all the way up my shaft and I couldn’t stop my fingers from tugging hard on her hair. I gasped out an apology that I don’t think she heard because she moaned and took me all the way in; I felt the head of my dick bounce off her tonsils. She swallowed over me while she pressed with her tongue and I’m pretty sure I lost all conscious thought.
When I knew I was close to coming, I had a brief flicker of what it would be like to pull out and impale her against the wall, but my big head won out over my little one and I didn’t do it. With a groan I felt down to my toes, I gave Jen a warning so she could pull back, and God bless her, she stayed right where she was. My vision went sort of black and sparkly so I’m not sure if she swallowed or spit it out toward the drain.
By the time I returned the favor and she yanked my face into her so hard I almost suffocated (but what a way to go, yeah?), the water was barely warm and my legs were rubber.
Somehow, I still had enough energy to suggest drive-through burgers and a trip to her condo for pile number one.
“Why didn’t I save the stupid boxes?” Jen griped as she dumped an armload of clothes onto her bed at my house.
I was busy shoving her dresser through the doorway, so my reply came out on a grunt. “Because you didn’t expect to be moving again.”
“Well, yeah, there’s that. Still, I hate moving ghetto-style.”
We’d packed as much as we could into garbage bags and stuffed the lot of them around Jen’s dresser in the back of her SUV. The bedroom floor was now a sea of Hefty, preventing me from getting the chest of drawers any further into the room. “If you want this thing in here, you’d better move your white-trash suitcases.” She stuck out her tongue. “Guess you can crawl over it to get out, then,” I said as I backed down the hall.
She clambered up on top of the dresser, standing tall with her hands on her hips. “Not a big deal. However,” she said, kicking out a foot and leaning against the doorframe to look at which drawers were blocked, “I can’t get to my underwear. Guess I’ll have to go without.”
Yeah, like I’d let that comment go.
I stalked back, parking myself at the edge of the wood slab top. “That only makes it easier for me to get to what I want.”
Jen jumped off the other side. “First, you have to get to me.”
I gave the chest a shove and she stepped back. “Not a problem, Pixie.”
“What did you call me?”
Shit.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. Spartacus.”
I narrowed my eyes and glared. Not that my given name was her fault, bu
t she had to go and be typical, hauling it out as some sort of payback. “Who told you?”
“Nobody.”
“Spill, Jen, so I know who needs to die.”
“Settle down, big guy. I saw your electric bill on the kitchen table. What’s wrong with Spartacus?”
I flinched, and I know she saw it. “Nothing. If we were in ancient Greece. But since we’re not…” I squeezed through the doorway and stalked her as she backed to the far corner.
“Honestly, I like it. It suits you, even though it’s a mouthful.”
I was now completely infringing on her personal space, and all she did was kick her chin up a notch. I was instantly granite-hard. Damned woman didn’t play fair. “A mouthful, Jen?”
“Or a somewhere-else-ful.”
I locked my eyes on hers, tracing a fingertip along her jawline to the point of her chin, my thumb turning lazy circles over her bottom lip. “Do you want me, Jensen? Want me inside you, good and deep?” I asked in a low voice.
Her eyes darkened and she nodded just once.
“Then don’t go.”
Hello, Mt. St. Helens. She erupted at me, and my temper flared right back. Those reasons she gave for not taking the transfer when it was first offered? I fired them back at her. “What about not wanting to leave your new fans, your new friends—and me?”
Jen countered with her aging parents, topping it off with: “A few weeks of friendship is not long enough to make presumptions and demands.”
That was way out of line. I had no demands, I was simply withholding my dick unless she changed her mind. And that torture went both ways. “For other people, Jensen, that might be accurate. But we’re not other people–and we’re a lot more than friends here.”
I thought people only did double-takes in the movies, but once again, Jensen proved that I didn’t know everything. “Wait–what?”
For a second, I wondered if I’d given voice to the other thought flitting around inside my head: that she was perfect. And there’s that perilous word again. Funny, though, this time, it didn’t feel so dangerous. “You said it yourself–‘Don’t you want to see where this goes?’ And, I know you probably won’t believe me, but I really do want to see.”
Waking Up in Vegas Page 14