Hot Property [Discretions 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Zara Chase

  “Are you going to tell me what you meant by your earlier comment?” she asked, pushing her empty plate aside and taking a healthy sip of wine.

  “Let’s just say we have our own way of getting things done,” Kent replied, winking at her.

  “Very elucidating.”

  “Come on, Kent.” Jared grinned at his mate. “The lady already thinks we’re the bad guys. Don’t make things worse.”

  “I didn’t actually say…”

  Jared held up a hand to cut off her words. “You didn’t have to. In your situation I’d be suspicious of everyone, too, but we’re actually on the same side here.”

  “We loved Saul, too,” Kent added softly, for once not playing the clown.

  “Yeah,” she said, watching them both closely. “I think perhaps you did. Don’t mind me. I’m probably seeing shadows where none exist.” She drank more wine. “So tell me what you plan to do to figure out what happened to Saul.”

  Jared gave her a brief rundown of Discretions and the ability their group of friends had to circumvent red tape.

  “Money certainly talks,” she said. “What do we do first?”

  Jared shrugged. “Detective Sergeant Regan is coming here to see you tomorrow and he’ll have the results of the post mortem. We can’t decide much until we know what it says.”

  “What about my father?” she asked, wrinkling her nose as she spoke his name.

  “Jack, our lawyer, is point of contact and you’re the only family member who will be kept informed.”

  Naomi widened her eyes. “Those are Saul’s wishes?”

  “Apparently,” Kent replied. “That’s all we know for now.”

  “We ought to get access to Saul’s apartment tomorrow,” Jared said. “We need to find Frank, and see who else Saul’s been speaking with online.”

  “You can crack his passwords?”

  “If we can’t, we know a man who can.”

  “Discretions,” she replied with the ghost of a smile.

  “The lady catches on fast,” Kent said, pushing his chair back from the table and hoisting one foot over his opposite thigh. He disturbed Trafford, who was trying to look invisible beneath the table. “Sorry, mate,” he said, leaning over to scratch the dog’s ears.

  “Saul was only on the verge of breaking into the top fifty players in the world,” Jared said, “but he was also the media’s darling and we had a lot of sponsors queuing up to offer him lucrative deals. That didn’t make him popular with some of the other players who’ve striven for much longer for far less reward.”

  “But surely, they wouldn’t resort to…”

  “Unlikely,” Kent said, “but we need to be thorough.”

  “Most of all we need to find Frank,” Jared added, scowling. “It’s just not like him to disappear off the radar. I have a nasty feeling about him. He knew Saul’s business better than anyone. If there was something going on in his life that got him into trouble, Frank will know what it was.”

  “Hmm.” Naomi covered an expansive yawn with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I guess the time difference is catching up with me.”

  “Why don’t you take yourself off and try to get some rest?” Jared suggested, standing up himself. “Kent and I have work to catch up with and we’ll talk again in the morning.”

  She looked as though she wanted to argue and Jared could sense her frustration, her frenetic need to do something, anything, to dull the pain of loss. Instead she nodded and stood up, too.

  “Okay, I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  “Count on it,” Kent said. “And if you need anything, just yell. We’ll be here.”

  Jared and Kent watched the elegant sway of her hips as she grabbed her bag and headed for the stairs. They carried on watching until she disappeared and there was nothing left to look at.

  “Okay then,” Kent said. “Damage control?” What do you need me to do?”

  “We already have Connor asking questions about Frank, but she didn’t need to know that. We’ll wait and see what he comes up with first.”

  “In other words, you don’t have a plan.”

  Jared grimaced. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  “We need to. The rest of Saul’s family are gonna kick up a stink if we keep shutting them out.”

  “Hey, that was Saul’s call. Not that I blame him.” Jared twisted the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “Let Jack deal with them.”

  “We can’t control what they say to the press.”

  “The old man’s a homophobe so he won’t mention anything about Saul’s lifestyle.”

  Kent hitched one buttock on the edge of the dining table. “What makes you so sure?”

  “He’ll want to milk this for all it’s worth. Do the rounds of the chat shows and all that shit. Tell the world what a wonderful, talented son he had, all thanks to the sacrifices he made to get him to where he was. What a clean-living boy he was, blah, blah, and how he was exploited by all the leeches surrounding him, resulting in his untimely demise.”

  “I wouldn’t bet against it.” Kent kicked moodily at the edge of the rug.

  “Come on, mate.” Jared clapped Kent’s shoulder. “Let’s catch up with all the outstanding stuff now, then we’ll have the decks clear for tomorrow. Once Naomi gets over the jet lag you can bet your life she’ll hit the ground running and we need to keep up with her.”

  “Aw, the image that conjures up.” Kent clasped his hands dramatically over his heart.

  “Down boy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I hear you. But you can’t blame her for wanting answers.”

  “We want answers, too. We just need to agree on how to go about getting them.”

  “Yeah, but what I don’t get is how the fuck we’re supposed to concentrate on the job in hand with that goddess asleep above our heads.”

  Jared chuckled. “Go and take a cold shower.”

  “It’ll take more than that. She’s a cut above. Do you think she’s a player?”

  “Don’t go there!” Jared wagged a finger at Kent. “She’s Saul’s sister. Hold that thought and try to rein in that raging libido of yours.”

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking the same thing, ‘cause I know better.”

  Jared grinned. “Can’t go to jail for what you’re thinking.” He switched his phone back on and was greeted by a dozen messages. “Come on, work’ll take your mind off sex.”

  “Don’t bank on it,” Kent groused, switching his own phone back on and disappearing into his office.

  Jared listened to four increasingly abusive messages from Saul’s father, all of which he deleted without responding to. He returned other calls that couldn’t be ignored, briefed the agency’s press liaison about how to respond to the plethora of enquiries flooding in about Saul, sent and replied to a mountain of emails and generally made sure all his prima donna clients had what they needed to keep them happy.

  Three hours slipped by, after which Kent stuck his head around Jared’s door and said he was calling it a night. Jared had more stuff to finish up, and it was another hour before he too decided to hit the sack. He let Trafford out, waited for him to do his business and trot back indoors, then locked up. He and the dog made their way upstairs, extinguishing lights as they went. About to enter his room, a sound at the other end of the corridor caught Trafford’s attention first, then Jared’s.

  “What is it, boy?” he asked, placing a hand on the dog’s collar when his hackles rose and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

  Not unduly concerned, Jared set off to investigate. Their security system was state-of-the-art and he was confident no one could have broken in. It couldn’t be Kent, either. Trafford wouldn’t get agitated over someone he knew that well. But the dog wasn’t exactly barking his head off, either.

  Which left only one alternative.

  He hesitated on the threshold of the guest room from which the noise had emanated—the room that Saul had always used. He heard gentle sobs coming from
inside and revised his decision not to intrude. She was upset. Couldn’t have that. He pushed the door open and found Naomi manically rifling through the drawers, occasionally pausing to wipe away the tears streaming down her face with the back of her hand.

  Alice must have mentioned that it had been Saul’s domain and, if she’d bothered to ask, Jared would have told her that she was welcome to anything of his—she didn’t need to be furtive about it. Her hair was tousled and there was a wild look in her tear-stained eyes, as though she was looking for clues of some kind. It concerned Jared that she still seemed to think he and Kent had something to do with Saul’s death, or were covering up what they knew in order to save their professional reputation. In her place, he’d probably think the same thing. They’d hardly hide the evidence in his room if they were culpable, but he cut Naomi some slack on the grounds that she was heartbroken, jet-lagged and clearly not thinking straight.

  She was wearing a very short T-shirt. Nothing else. The light from the lamp she’d switched on was directly behind her, confirming what Jared could already see with his own eyes.

  Shit!

  He wanted to tell her she was wasting her time. There was nothing for her to find, but she probably wouldn’t take his word for that. She seemed to have stopped crying and had her emotions under better control. Best leave her to it. If they fell into conversation with her virtually naked…well, Jared didn’t have that much self-control.

  On the point of dragging Trafford away, she must have sensed his presence and looked up, guilt written all over her face.

  “Something I can help you with?” he asked.

  “Nothing…sorry, I couldn’t…I needed to do something. I can’t sleep.” She folded her hands coyly over her pussy. A little late for modesty, darling. “My body’s still in a different time zone.”

  Mentioning her body was so not the right thing to do. Despite his valiant struggle to behave himself, Jared’s gaze swept down its length at a leisurely pace, and he made no attempt to disguise the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed the view. If she chose to wander around the house with nothing much on when she knew he and Kent were on the prowl, he figured she had it coming.

  Naomi opened her mouth, then closed it again without speaking. Color suffused her cheeks as she planted a fist on one jutting hip and defiantly withstood his scrutiny. She was a beautiful model, probably used to men sending her admiring glances, and it was difficult for Jared to decide whether or not she appreciated such open…well, appreciation. Silence sucked the atmosphere dry as their gazes dueled and a hint of a challenge shaped the arch of her brow. Challenging him to what? His rigid, throbbing cock had a few ideas about that, reminding him he needed to get the hell out of there. And he needed to do it right away, otherwise…

  Trafford defused the awkwardness by going up to her and pushing his head beneath her hand. Jared reached forward to drag him away at the exact moment she dropped a hand to scratch his ears. Their hands collided, Jared’s self-control evaporated, and lust ripped through him like a mini tsunami. So too did the desire to make her tears dry up completely and the pain go away. It was more than a case of following his instincts, he realized. He actually cared deeply about the emotional welfare of a woman he’d only met that afternoon. He cared enough to put her wellbeing ahead of his own raging need. When had that last happened?

  Never.

  Jared was used to taking what he wanted, provided the female in question was happy to give. They almost always were.

  “Carry on,” he said in a gruff voice. “There are still a few of Saul’s things in here. Books and stuff. Come on, Trafford.”

  “Jared.”

  Her voice stopped him when he was halfway to his room. He knew it would be a mistake to turn back and look at her.

  Something stronger than his own will caused him to turn. And to look.

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I don’t want to be alone,” she said in a soft, sultry voice.

  Geez! “Can’t sleep?”

  “Don’t be so obtuse.”

  Jared shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I know exactly what I’m asking.”

  “If you do, it’s for all the wrong reasons.”

  “Since when did men give a shit about the reasons? Stop playing hard to get.” Oh, baby! “I’ve just found out that when the only person you’ve ever really loved is taken from you, the desire to live, to feel truly alive, supersedes just about everything else.”

  “Naomi, just stop and think for a minute. You’re jet-lagged, you’re grieving, you don’t—”

  “Don’t tell me what I am, or that I don’t know my own mind! And don’t tell me you don’t want this, too.” Her smile was sensual, empowered. “I saw how you looked at me just now.” She glanced at his groin. “Besides, the evidence is pretty difficult to ignore.”

  “So, you just want my body.” He intended to tease but his voice, thick with desire, probably told her she was right. “And won’t respect me in the morning.”

  She chuckled. “Don’t worry. No strings attached.”

  Jared sensed his self-control, such as it was, rapidly dwindling. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

  “I don’t recall ever having to argue my way into a guy’s bed before.” She took a step toward him, her eyes heavy-lidded and seductive. “Don’t make me beg, Maynard.”

  “Come here then.”

  He held out a hand. She took another step toward him and slid hers into it. With a smothered oath, Jared pulled her into his arms, and her near-naked body collided against his with a soft thud. He framed her jaw with one hand and slowly claimed her lips in a deep, drugging kiss. His other hand crept up the back of her T-shirt. He’d been wrong about what she wore underneath it but, in his own defense, the wispy lace thong barely covering her pussy was so insubstantial it was little wonder he hadn’t noticed it. One thing he had got right was her lack of a bra. Despite her slender form, her tits were nicely rounded and, he was glad to discover when one filled his roaming hand very nicely, they were the real deal. Jared was no lover of silicone enhancements.

  Her pert nipple solidified beneath his fingers as he gave it a tweak and simultaneously deepened the kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his hair and her tongue with his, rubbing herself against his erection as cute little mewing noises slipped past their fused lips. Jared dropped one hand to her backside and massaged the small globes, wondering how to play this. He could have vanilla sex if it came to it, he supposed, although it wasn’t high on his agenda. But this was for her. She was the one in need, but something about the enthusiastic manner in which she was plastering herself against him made Jared wonder about her preferences. Or could it be he was so anxious to fuck that cute arse of hers that he was misinterpreting the messages she sent him?

  “Hey,” he said, breaking the kiss and smiling down at her. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.”

  “Hmm.”

  She was still clinging to him like a limpet and didn’t seem capable of walking. Jared swept her into his arms and carried her along the corridor to his own room. He kicked the door open. Trafford dashed in ahead of him and, with a martyred sigh, curled up on his bed. He was snoring within seconds. How did dogs do that?

  Jared sat on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, with Naomi on his lap. He reached across and switched on a lamp that gave out a soft glow. He wanted to see her, every glorious inch of her.

  “Last chance to change your mind,” he told her.

  “Quit trying to get out of this, Maynard.” She offered him a full inventory of sexy pouts. “I know my rights.”

  He chuckled and kissed the end of her nose. “Just making sure, because once this starts, I’ll have a hell of a job stopping if you decide you’ve made a mistake.”

  He would stop, of course, but wouldn’t have started either if she hadn’t insisted. Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Jared had known he was in troub
le the moment he saw her in that blasted transparent T-shirt. A T-shirt that suddenly seemed far too concealing. He grabbed its hem and whipped it over her head, leaving her clothed in just that wispy thong. It was navy blue, all lace and not a whole lot of use for anything expect making her look too damned sexy for her own good.

  “You need to tell me what you like,” he said softly.

  “What do you like?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “Sure it is.” She threw him a scorching look. “With a little effort, I figure we can please one another.”

  “You reckon?” He wound her hair around his fist and tugged gently. When she groaned he tugged a little harder. “You like me pulling your hair?”

  “I like what it does to you.”

  She wiggled around on his lap to prove her point, and she was spot on. Anything the slightest bit domineering had him firing on all cylinders—one cylinder in particular. His cock was now so hard it was downright painful but if Jared let it out now, with her cute backside deliberately stirring him up, it would be over in a heartbeat. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. Jared was all about control, in all situations.

  And the type of situation he found himself in right then was his specialty.

  “Is that right?”

  He lowered his head, pulled her hair to one side so her head had to follow it, and nipped his way down the long column of neck he’d just exposed. When the contact of his teeth on her delicate skin produced a series of increasingly desperate little moans, Jared figured she had to be enjoying the discomfort and so bit a little harder, distracting her by playing with one of her nipples. He pinched it hard. And then a little harder. Her groaning, along with the pressure of her backside against his cock, got a little more intense and less inhibited.

  “Does that work for you, darling?”

  “Hmm.”

  “You like it hard and rough?”

  “As hard as possible.”

  Jared wondered if she know what she was saying.

  “There’s something you need to know,” he said.

  “Not now,” she replied, eyes closed, head rotating in circles, a dreamy expression on her face. “Just keep doing what you were doing to me. Like it.”