by Jeya Jenson
“AJ Bremmer,” she mouthed. All she had to do was call the vet listed on the prescription and pretend she’d found the cat. The number would match up to the owner’s information. If she could wheedle a phone number, that would be great. An address would be better.
Now she had a name to go with the face of her sexy biker. Was it crazy to feel such an attraction—such a connection—to a man she’d spent less than an hour with? She wasn’t a believer in love at first sight or happy endings. She was a strong believer in the power of fate. This man had come into her life and left an impression she wasn’t willing to let go of quickly or easily.
I intend to pay Mister Bremmer a visit soon. Her fingers closed around the tag. Just to thank him.
She didn’t know why he was so important to her or even how he’d figure into her future.
But she wanted to find out.
Chapter Ten
The last seven days had not progressed well for Adrien. All he could think about was Cassie Wilson. The damn woman was akin to a virus invading his immune system and insidiously working its way right into the core of his brain. Since he’d dropped her off at her place, she was constantly in his head. He’d gone to bed that night thinking about her, dreamt of her and woke up with her name on his tip of his tongue. Much to his chagrin, the images he entertained of her were wickedly graphic.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he muttered under his breath. “Jesus, she was a woman needing help and all you can think about is your cock.”
Trying to shake her image out of his brain, he pounded another nail into the frame of the bookcase he was building. In attempting to outrun the impressions she’d left on him, he’d turned his attention toward renovating his apartment. He hadn’t really intended to fix the place up—it wasn’t like he planning on staying much longer. But he needed an outlet for the restless energy suddenly overtaking him. A bit of exhausting manual labor should have been just the ticket. After painting the tacky walls a clean shade of eggshell white, he’d laid new linoleum in the kitchen and ripped out the nasty carpet in the living room. Underneath was the treasure of a hardwood floor, now sanded and buffed to a nice sheen. His efforts had earned him two month’s worth of free rent from his delighted landlord. In fact, the old lady was so tickled by all his work that she’d graced the place with matching curtains and a used, but much nicer dinette set. The place was actually beginning to look like decent folks lived there.
He hammered in a few more nails. “Don’t get to thinking about staying,” he warned himself. “She ain’t for you and you ain’t for her.”
So why did Cassie persist on doing her dance in his head? He wanted her to stop it, go away so that he could think of other things, but she refused. She was a luminous presence with loosely styled red hair and stunning green eyes. Her body, oh damn…beside him she was just a wisp of a woman, but a lot of dynamite was packed into her five-foot-three-inch frame. He’d only had a glimpse of those pert little breasts and her slender hips, but that was enough to get his fantasies fired up. While painting the walls, he’d imagined what it would be like to slowly undress her… When unrolling the linoleum, he’d pretended that she was stretching out under him, spreading her white thighs to welcome to the thrust of his hips. And each time he smacked a nail, he imagined that he was stroking his cock into in her welcoming pussy…
Smashing his thumb with the hammer’s head immediately whisked his mind out of his crotch. “Bloody hell!” He swore, the words leaving his lips before he recalled that he was trying to suppress his English mannerisms. He reared back on his knees and flung the hammer aside. He examined his smarting thumb, thankfully unbroken but nevertheless painful.
Gisele, who’d spent the last days supervising the renovations, looked at him like he was a freaking idiot. Her wide green eyes seemed to sparkle with a secret amusement. What did she think of her master mooning over a woman?
Adrien reached out and gave her furry head a scratch. “Don’t worry, Gizzy,” he said. “No other woman’s head is ever going to take your pillow, I promise. You’re the only girl sharing my bed.”
Gisele meowed with her two cents on the subject, then released her trilling purr. Since he’d lost her original prescription for her eye meds, he’d had to make another trip to the vet and get a fresh one. He’d also lost the beautiful custom tag he’d picked out to match her faux-jeweled red leather collar. He vaguely recalled sticking them in the pocket of his jacket. That, alas, was gone. He’d forgotten to get it back from Cassie after dropping her off at her home. He knew where she lived. And though it would’ve given him a logical reason to see her again, he’d decided it was better not to retrieve it. His sexual attraction to that woman was too incredibly strong. Something about her stirred emotions that he’d sworn never again to fall victim to.
Some men have to walk alone, he came the stern reminder. That’s just the way it is.
Hot, sweaty and tired, he ran his hands over his face, then down to his aching shoulders. He’d been working non-stop all afternoon. His T-shirt clung to his body like a second skin and he was ready to shed it. After a hard day’s work he was hot, sweaty and in need of a long, icy shower. The sun outside was slowly beginning to sink into the west, indicating that it was time for a break. He’d been so preoccupied by his work and his ruminations about Cassie that he’d forgotten to eat.
“First, a beer, Gizzy.” He grunted and climbed to his feet. Shaking his head to move his long hair off his neck, he pulled off his damp T-shirt and tossed it on the floor. It stank of sweat, paint and sawdust. “Then I’ll make us something to eat.” He grinned when the Persian began to weave in and out between his legs, nearly tripping him with her eager display of affection. “I’ve got a can of tuna with your name all over it.”
He glanced down at his handy work of the day. The bookshelf he was putting together wasn’t the work of a master carpenter, but it would suffice when finished. He had only the raw materials and an idea of how they should be fit together. Past that, he had no other expertise past a willingness to try. A jack of all trades, he was a master of none. All his life, he’d thrown his back and hands into laboring. Lilith had introduced him to an existence of decadent ease; he’d spent over thirty years as her prisoner-consort. Only the need to vacate England during Hitler’s Luftwaffe blitzing of England had given him the chance to escape her hold. Lilith was desperate to flee from the intense bombing. She’d not taken the turn of the century well and was loathe to step into more a more modern era world as times progressed, technologically and socially. She was too mentally unstable to accept change, wanting to remain forever in the genteel age that had spawned her. Her fatal mistake was to trust him.
After all, I learned to deceive by hearing the tongue of my own mistress, he thought wryly.
Lilith’s jewels had financed his passage to America, her head his sole companion. Like a hound on the scent of its prey, he was determined to sate the vengeance burning in his heart. He would find Carnavorn and he would make him pay. It wasn’t just a matter of finding Devon and killing him. He could have done that at any time. No, he wanted Carnavorn to lose more than his life—just as Adrien had.
He no longer had even a picture of his wife, Anna. The cameo bearing her likeness had been taken from his possession by Lilith, along with the plain gold band marking him as a wedded man. He and Anna Nichols weren’t married long—only a few weeks—when he’d been nabbed by Carnavorn’s lackeys. His shy young bride knew nothing of his life as an Amhais. He hadn’t had time to ease her into his life and the secrets he guarded as a shadow-stalker. How she’d taken his vanishing and what her fate was, he did not know. He didn’t want to know. His human life had ceased when he crossed into the Kynn world, and with it went his past.
His singular desire became not merely to slay Devon—but to do it at a time when Carnavorn had attained joy in his life. If it took a year or a thousand, Adrien was willing to wait. Devon would eventually seek another blood-mate. And when he did, Adrien swore
that he’d be there, waiting in the wings to snatch happiness right out from under Devon’s nose.
It was a shock to realize that he hadn’t thought of Devon once this weekend. Much to his bewildered pleasure, his mind was instead dancing a waltz around the brief time he’d spent with Cassie. Like a record player needle stuck on one note, he’d played and replayed that night across his mind’s screen, adding a little bit more each time. Before she’d gone into her house, she’d stretched up to the tips of her toes and given him a kiss on the cheek softer than the brush of a butterfly’s wings. Her whispered words of gratitude still echoed in his ears. He could still feel her lips brushing his skin.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I’ve lost my head over an imaginary piece of tail.”
Heading toward the fridge, he retrieved a bottle of beer. Twisting off the cap, he gulped down half the beverage before pressing the cold bottle to his forehead. Outside, an unseasonably warm day was giving way to the coming chill night never failed to bring to the desert.
A knock at his front door instantly caused his heart to skip a beat. He certainly wasn’t expecting any company. The only person who’d set foot in the apartment since he’d moved in was his landlady and he’d already hustled her and her alley cat out the door once today. He didn’t like the way her scraggly snaggle-eared uncouth tiger-striped tom was sniffing around Giselle. His best girl was a virgin and would remain one.
Giselle scurried into the bedroom. She hated unexpected company. Adrien was about the only two-legged critter she knew personally and she liked having it that way.
Beer in hand, he opened the door. His jaw nearly dropped to his knees. On his doorstep stood the very woman he’d spent the last week dreaming about.
Cassie smiled and held out his jacket. “AJ?” She spoke his name timidly, as if she weren’t sure it belonged to him. “I think you forgot something.”
“Uh, yeah.” Bum-fuzzled and tongue-twisted, Adrien reached out and snatched it from her. “Thanks—been needing that.”
Her smile grew wider. “You could have come by and picked it up any time.”
He felt the perfect fool. “Just a jacket,” he mumbled. “Nothing special.”
She stood on her tip-toes, trying to glance around his body and into his apartment. “Long drive out here,” she remarked. “You’re not an easy guy to find.”
“I’m not supposed to be,” he blurted rudely.
A flicker of hurt crossed her face. She recovered in an instant. “I see you’ve got a beer there,” she said, obviously attempting to make conversation. “Got another?” It was a blatant hint that she wanted to come inside.
Adrien stepped aside. Cassie passed him in a smooth slink that left behind a heady trail of perfume. She walked around his small living room, obviously noting the smell of fresh paint and freshly laundered curtains. “Nice,” she clipped. “Cozy bohemian chic. I like it.”
Adrien closed the door and tossed his jacket on a nearby chair. What the hell had possessed him into inviting her in? He should have thanked her politely and sent her on her way. It wasn’t like she was important. She was just a stranger he’d helped. End of story. Now that she’d returned his property, it was time for her to be on her merry way.
“It’s just a place I rent,” he said gruffly.
“Been here long?” she asked.
“No.”
An arched eyebrow of interest rose at his reply. “Planning on staying awhile?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She ignored his rude behavior. “How about that beer?”
Finishing his first, he retrieved two more bottles from the kitchen. Twisting the cap off one, he handed it over. She waited until he’d uncapped his own. Then she clinked her bottle against his. “Cheers.” She drank down a healthy swig.
“Cheers,” he gulped.
Almost unsure about the surreal turn his evening was taking, Adrien didn’t bother with his beer. His gaze was riveted on the stunning woman standing so casually in front of him. Her skin reminded him of fresh cream. Her eyes were wide and intelligent. She had enough make-up on to cover the fading bruises, but not so much that she looked artificial. She’d let down her hair. It was styled in a sharp and sassy manner, a mass of red curls framing her face, brushing her shoulders. He wondered what it would be like to brush her hair aside and nibble the nape of her neck. Just the idea of touching her intimately sent a warm stirring of desire straight to his loins.
Oh, God, he inwardly groaned. Let’s not go there.
His rapidly deteriorating thoughts weren’t helped by the fact that she was dressed in a charcoal gray jacket that brushed her legs mid-thigh. She’d paired it with a pair of silky garters and hose, along with a pair of open-toed high spike heeled sandals. The jacket buttoned just below the valley between her breasts. It was readily apparent that she wasn’t wearing a bra. A single strand of pearls graced her slender neck. It was the classiest damn ensemble he’d ever seen a woman clad in and his only desire was to rip it off her. It was hard to keep his eyes locked on her face and away from her beautiful body.
Cassie lowered her bottle. She also looked him up and down; at the well-worn jeans he’d donned this morning. Her gaze ate up the scuffed work boots, then made its way back up his body, pausing on his bare torso. He inwardly groaned when her eyes recognized the signs of abuse.
Embarrassed, Adrien backed off and reached for his discarded T-shirt.
“Don’t.” Her word was a command that stopped him in his tracks. She took his beer out of his hand, setting it down on the table alongside her own. Then she slowly unbuttoned her jacket.
“I know there’s no need to thank you,” she said. “But I want to.” She let the jacket slide off her shoulders. Except for her garter and stockings she was completely naked. She wasn’t wasting any time or beating around the bush. She struck a seductive pose, briefly cupping her breasts before running her palms over her flat belly and gently rounded hips.
Adrien’s brain turned to mush. He held his ground even as he felt his blood pressure and temperature rising. Few sights in this world struck a man speechless. A naked woman was a guaranteed tongue twister. Always an aficionado of nature, he couldn’t resist admiring the view. He visually drank in every inch.
Starting at the tip of her sandals, his gaze traced the lines of her slender legs, slowly going higher, lingering at the vee between her legs. Her Venus mound was hairless, slick and smooth. Breath hitching in the back of his throat, he mapped out the path to her breasts; small but pert, nipples like ripe cherries atop vanilla ice cream. She looked good enough to eat in more ways than one.
Before Adrien could think to stop her, she stepped up in front of him. Another whiff of her perfume sent his head to swimming and a tremble straight to his knees. Running her hands over his bare chest, she traced a prominent scar under his left nipple with the soft pad of one finger.
“Mmmm, I know there’s a story behind these.” Her tongue snaked out to trace it. The velvety moist warmth was tantalizing and utterly seductive. She glanced down. His rapidly burgeoning erection was readily apparent.
Gulping for breath and his rapidly deteriorating control, Adrien gasped out, “There is.” He wasn’t really listening to her. He was staring at her mouth, half wondering what those delicious lips would feel like wrapped around his shaft.
He tried to step away from her, but Cassie moved a little bit faster than he did. She dropped to her knees and caught his hips, pressing her lips to the front of his jeans. The hot air she breathed through the material made instant contact. Cock surging against the too-taut material, a soft moan escaped his throat. That’s it. He was a total goner. Once, twice, he was a man sinking under the waves. He’d willingly drown just to make love to her one time.
Cassie’s hands found his beltline. She wriggled her fingers inside his jeans and slid them together, expertly working open the top button.
Gritting his teeth, Adrien grasped her wrists. He pulled her hands away from his zipper. “I
f you don’t stop now,” came a voice that didn’t sound like his own, “I don’t think I can either.”
Still on her knees, she looked up at him. Her naughty smile vanished and her wide eyes held a measure of surprise that he’d stopped her explorations.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you—want—me?”
He lifted Cassie to her feet.
“Want you?” he parroted, just barely under his breath. “God, yes.” Then before he could stop the words, he blurted. “You’re all I’ve thought about all week. I was only with you for an hour and it feels like I’ve known you a lifetime.”
He wasn’t sure, but he thought she blushed.
She giggled and crossed her arms demurely across her exposed breasts. “I have to admit that you’ve been on my mind.” One slender hand went down to cover her slick mound. “Um, in more ways then one.” She cut him a quick glance and blushed a shade redder. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been so obvious. I just…”
Needing to quench the heat sizzling in his veins, he picked up his beer and finished it. “Don’t apologize,” he said quickly. You just need to know that I’ve been on my own a long time and it’s strange to have someone suddenly walking into my life.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t anything I was looking for.”
His words were like a dash of cold water. In a blink, her attitude changed. She held up a hand to halt the all-too-familiar words. She stiffly picked up her jacket and put it on, then straightened her back, held her chin high and looked down her nose at him.
“If you’re uncomfortable, AJ, I can go,” she said as she worked each button closed. But behind her civil tone was a hint of arctic wind. And, if he weren’t mistaken, he also detected a touch of hostility. She thought he was rejecting her outright. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “Thanks for helping me. I returned your jacket. Goodbye.”