The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  “Come inside, Justin.”

  Hesitation flitted across his face. “I didn’t come here to dump on you. Or to put moves on you. I should have left before you came back. I just… didn’t want to be in my house tonight.”

  The fact that he’d come to her as a refuge of sorts added a glow to the tenderness. Justin didn’t often lean. It was nice that he thought she was strong enough to support him when he did.

  “Come inside,” she said again. “You were there for me last night. Let me return the favor.”

  His gaze drifted to her mouth. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “No, you will not. We’re adults, and we both need a good night’s sleep. My bed’s big enough for two.”

  Color flooded the cheeks that had been so pale only a moment ago. “Kathleen…”

  “I’ll cuff you to the headboard if you’re worried that you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Somehow that’s not quite the deterrent you might imagine.”

  She smiled, and brushed her finger over his bruised cheek. “Come inside.”

  He laid his hand in the one she extended.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  JUSTIN gritted his teeth as he tried desperately to ignore his morning erection. He solved increasingly complex mathematical equations, ran through the Latin terms for the various parts of the human body, and even tried thinking about Mandy as a way to put his mind off sex.

  His phallos didn’t get the memo.

  Kathleen lay roughly twelve inches away from him, basically swaddled in flannel and an ancient Murphy’s sweatshirt. Her hair was a fiery tangle about her head. She was snoring, very softly. It shouldn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, be sexy.

  It was.

  The first weak light of dawn cast shadowy fingers across the bed, seeming to pin Justin in place. He should get up. Gather his sweater and shoes from the chair in the corner – he’d insisted upon sleeping in his jeans– and exit the premises as hastily as possible.

  Not that he didn’t fully intend on being in this position – and very soon – with Kathleen, but after three years, he had more in mind for their first time than a morning quickie.

  Because a quickie would be all they had time for.

  They both had to be at work.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort it took to keep himself in check. Which was embarrassing, really. He wasn’t nineteen, for God’s sake.

  He stared at the ceiling, determined that by the time he counted to ten, he would climb out of this bed. Without touching her. He was a man of science, of reason. His intellect had almost always ruled the baser urges of his body. He hadn’t been perfect, sure, but – aside from a couple of boneheaded incidents in his teens and the inescapable, glaring mistake of becoming involved with the disaster that was Mandy – he’d never been one to be led about by his dick. There was no reason, as a man past thirty, that he should lose control now.

  Kathleen muttered something, and rolled onto her side. Her leg stretched up to hug his thigh.

  And okay. Reason was quickly losing the battle. It was pretty much armed with a pointy stick, while his penis had both shield and sword.

  Or maybe a lance. A really big lance. At this point, it certainly felt like it.

  Kathleen snuggled closer, her arm flinging across his chest, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. When her hand flexed, fingers brushing across his nipple, the lance reduced the stick to kindling.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, rolling her over, pinning her beneath him. Shit, shit this was a bad idea. But his hand, operating with a mind of its own, streaked beneath her sweatshirt to close around the plump softness of her breast. He buried his lips in the curve of her neck, began to feast like a starving man.

  “Mmm.” Awake now, Kathleen’s foot slid up the back of his leg, her thighs shifting further apart so that he settled more firmly between them. “Well. Good morning to you, too.”

  “If you want me to stop,” he panted against her skin. “Please tell me immediately.”

  “I don’t want you to stop,” she told him.

  Moving with a speed of which he might have previously judged himself incapable, Justin rose to his knees and clasped the waistband of her flannel bottoms. Ripping them down her legs, he tossed them over his shoulder, shuddering when he saw that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath.

  His gaze, blazing a trail up her body, practically sizzled as it connected with hers.

  Her fingers stretched out, fanning through the dusting of hair on his chest, before sliding down to manipulate his fly. “Why don’t you take these off?”

  “Why don’t I?”

  Shucking his jeans, they joined her pants over his shoulder, even as she hastily removed her sweatshirt and dropped it to the floor. She leaned up, so that they were torso to torso, skin to skin on the bed, and lightly nipped his jaw.

  Whatever slender thread of control Justin had held onto snapped like a broken rubber band.

  Grabbing her hips, he eased back, and pulled her down astride him. Entering her fully with a single, hard thrust, he clenched his jaw to keep from losing it there and then.

  Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Kathleen’s head dropped back, the long line of her throat providing the perfect place for him to trail a line of open-mouthed kisses.

  He rocked into her, and the moan she let out vibrated along his lips.

  “Oh, yes,” she told him, the words almost strangled as they emerged. “Right there. Justin.”

  The sound of his name, in just that tone of voice, caused his hips to pump, harder, faster. His hands gripped her cheeks, holding her tight as he ground into her, and hers rose from his shoulders to tangle in the thickness of his hair. When his mouth closed around her breast, wet and hungry, Kathleen clenched her internal muscles, causing a burst of pleasure so hot, so intense that his eyes rolled back in his head.

  He tried to focus, tried to keep his head in the game so that he could remember every move, every whisper, every groan, but when she said “more,” his body completely took over. He pushed Kathleen onto her back, hooking his arms beneath her knees, stretching those glorious legs wide as he hammered himself into her. There was no reason any more, only instinct. No thought, only the primal drive to mate. Sweat sheened their skin, causing them to slide against each other, increasing the friction, and Kathleen’s nails clawed his back, mixing pleasure with a tantalizing hint of pain.

  When she cried out, pulsing around him, Justin finally gave himself up to his own release.

  The aftermath left him weak as a newborn baby.

  He didn’t want to crush her, but he couldn’t seem to move. He wasn’t entirely sure that he still retained the use of his legs.

  “Mmm,” Kathleen said again, her hand drifting up to pat him on the shoulder before falling back to the bed. They lie like that, limp and wrecked, as the minutes ticked by on her digital clock. They should get up, get ready to face the day ahead, but he just couldn’t make himself care at the moment.

  “I’d say that makes this a very good morning,” she eventually said.

  His lips curved against her neck.

  “That wasn’t the way I envisioned our first time, but I’ll take it.”

  “I would ask what your vision entailed, but my synapses are still misfiring. Hopefully, I’ll have full brain function again before I start work.”

  The mention of work was, unfortunately, the motivation Justin needed to roll himself off of her. Then he looked to the side, studied her face.

  She smiled, sleepy and satisfied.

  He grabbed her hand, brought her fingers to his lips.

  Her smile faltered.

  “Problem?” he had to ask.

  “No. Of course not.”

  Her smile came again, bright, and false.

  “Kathleen,” he said, and when she looked away, he grasped her chin and gently forced her head back around. He wasn’t going to let her slide away into whatever little emotional hidey-hole she’
d been aiming for.

  “It’s just…” she looked at the ceiling again, finally took a deep breath before turning back. “That kind of gesture, the romantic thing, has never meant that much to me before. I mean sure, it’s nice, but I don’t need it or expect it. And it certainly doesn’t make me go all gooey.”

  “And now?”

  She studied his expression, her own turning wry. “Gooey, okay? I’m a puddle over here. But you don’t have to look so self-satisfied.”

  “Of course I do.” Kathleen Murphy, discomposed and gooey? Hell, he wasn’t just self-satisfied. He felt like a king.

  “Yeah, okay. I’m feeling pretty satisfied myself. I figured you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.”

  Justin grinned, stroked his thumb over the palm of her hand. “So what you’re saying is this was all a plot.”

  “Of course it was. I didn’t buy that box of condoms as a decorative item.”

  “Ah.” The grin slid from Justin’s face as he remembered the condoms. The condoms that were still sitting on his kitchen table. “Yeah. About that.”

  “I’m on the pill,” she told him. “And I’m clean.”

  “So am I. Clean, I mean. I generally try to avoid ingesting estrogen and progestin, as I like my testosterone just fine.”

  “You’re such a geek,” she told him.

  “A geek who makes you gooey.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. You surgeons have big enough egos.” She sat up, stretched, and Justin’s gaze followed the long, lean line of her body. Improbable as it seemed, his own body began to stir with interest again.

  She tilted her head, considering. “We both need to shower. Any chance we could do that together without things getting out of hand?”

  “I don’t know. The sleeping together platonically thing worked out pretty well.”

  Kathleen laughed, the sound sexy and amused. “Can you at least be quick?”

  “I’d like to say no, no, of course not. I have entirely too much stamina for that. But the fact is, it’s a miracle I lasted past two minutes this first time.”

  “We’ve got ten.”

  “Well hell,” he said, rolling to his feet and scooping her – naked and laughing – off the bed. “What are we waiting for then?”

  KATHLEEN strolled into Murphy’s, the familiar smells of good food and even better whiskey grounding her in a way that few things could. The pub had been such a constant in her life, a home away from home during childhood, a hangout and source of spending money during her teens – she’d washed more than her share of dishes – and an unexpected source of pride as she watched her younger brothers take over the reins from their father, just as he had taken them over from his father before him. Murphy’s wasn’t just a thriving Charleston landmark, it was a family institution.

  The institution was currently sparsely populated, as she’d hit the lull between the lunch and dinner crowds. Spotting the reason for her visit standing at the far end of the copper-topped bar, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he leaned over some paperwork, Kathleen took a moment to simply appreciate the man her brother had become. Declan had always been the black sheep, the problem child of the family.

  Responsibility – and happiness – looked good on him.

  “I didn’t realize they had a Hooked on Phonics, Bar Edition now.”

  Declan raised a brow as she slid onto a stool. “You keep wearing skirts to work and someone’s going to mistake you for a woman.”

  Obligatory insults out of the way, Declan pushed the paperwork aside. “What’s up?”

  “Something has to be up? I can’t just pay a visit to my baby brother?”

  He snorted, but there was concern in his eyes. “Is everything okay? Maureen – ”

  “Maureen and the baby are fine,” she said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I followed them home from the hospital. And Ben seems to have a handle on things.” Maureen’s husband was a criminal defense attorney. Aside from making for some interesting debates at family gatherings, Kathleen knew that it also meant he was well aware of the things of which human beings were capable.

  Relief eased some of the tension from Declan’s shoulders. “Any word on that?”

  “The lieutenant shut me out completely. But Josh broke ranks and slipped me a little information this morning. They have a lead on the doll.”

  “Harding,” Declan snorted again, more out of habit, Kathleen thought, than real derision. The two of them had always yanked each other’s chains. “Teddy Bear Patrol seems right up his alley.”

  Then he grew serious. “I’m trying not to overreact to this, but it’s tough now, with Sadie and the baby. How much of a threat is this guy? Sadie balked, but I’m ready to move us into Maureen’s old apartment if I need to. It would be easier to keep an eye on things until you catch him.”

  By “things,” Kathleen knew he meant Sadie. His protective gene had gone haywire since they’d discovered she was pregnant. But Kathleen couldn’t blame him. She shared the same gene.

  “I will absolutely let you know if I think that becomes necessary.”

  “Tough for you to know how necessary it might be, since you’re shut out of the investigation.”

  Kathleen tapped her fingers on the bar. “I, uh, have Anthony checking out a couple things for me.”

  Declan’s brow arched skyward. “Bucking the system?” he said, his tone interested. “How naughty of you. I always knew you’d come around to my way of thinking eventually.”

  “You could help me out instead of being a smartass.”

  “I’m afraid the smartass thing is a permanent feature, like eye color, but I’ll be glad to help you out.”

  Kathleen glanced around before leaning on the bar, motioning Declan closer. “The new waitress you hired, the one Sam Harding recommended. Shelley?”

  “What about her?”

  “She giving you any… problems?”

  “No. She’s reliable, efficient and the customers seem to like her. Although,” Declan considered, “she did do something a little odd last night. She switched tables with another server because she didn’t want to wait on a couple customers. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention at the time, because we were busy, and the customers still got waited on. But now that I think about it, I‘m pretty sure the customers in question were Justin and Anthony. Which is weird, because I was under the impression she liked Wellington. A lot. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” Kathleen tapped her fingers again. “And I don’t want to accuse her of anything of which she might be perfectly innocent. Just… if you notice anything else unusual, let me know, okay?”

  “Of course.” And then, because he was constitutionally incapable of maintaining a serious conversation for very long, he leaned back, crossed his arms. “By the way, I had to come in early this morning for a delivery. There was a strange SUV in the lot. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Kathleen felt heat creep into her cheeks. Which was simply ridiculous. She was a grown woman, and whom she chose to spend the night with wasn’t anyone else’s business. Particularly her pesky little brother.

  “No idea,” she told him.

  “Maybe I should call Harding and ask him about it. Considering you have this threat hanging over you and all. We really can’t be too careful.”

  “Do and die.”

  Declan chuckled, low and evil. “That’s what I thought.”

  Kathleen slid off the stool, straightened her jacket. “Tell Sadie I’ll be happy to take her to the psychiatric hospital when you finally drive her insane.”

  “Sadie’s crazy about me.”

  “Crazy being the operative word.”

  The sound of her brother’s laughter followed her out the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  JUSTIN turned the key in the SUV’s ignition, but the engine almost immediately choked. Frowning, he waited a minute before trying again, pumping the gas a little, only to experience identical resul
ts. Three more attempts had him sighing and admitting defeat.

  He climbed from the driver’s seat just as James came out the door, rubbing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

  “Problem?” he called from the porch.

  “Sounds like the fuel filter is clogged.” Justin reached into the foot well, finding the latch that released the hood. Yawning, his breath clouding in the early morning air, James came down the steps to stand beside Justin as he checked out the SUVs engine.

  “Can you grab me a wrench and a pair of pliers from the garage?”

  “Sure.” His brother came back, slapped the tools into Justin’s palm, and Justin loosened the clips so that he could extract the filter. When he pulled it out, it was covered in a brownish gunk.

  Justin frowned.

  “That can’t be good,” James surmised.

  Setting the filter aside, Justin rounded the car, pried open the cover to the gas tank.

  And squinted at the fine crystalline substance dusting the well around the cap. “Son of a bitch.”

  “What is that?” James asked.

  “Sugar.”

  “I thought that was a myth.”

  “It’s a myth that it’ll ruin an engine. It will, however, clog a fuel filter, effectively rendering the vehicle inoperable until the filter is changed.” There was no telling exactly when the sugar had been dumped in there. Certainly after he’d last filled the tank yesterday evening. No way he would have missed that. Depending on the amount of sugar, it could take minutes or hours to effectively clog the filter. That meant it could possibly have happened last night. Yesterday afternoon when he’d been at work.

  Or even the night before, when he’d been at Kathleen’s.

  James was silent, and Justin knew that his brother was trying to figure out what to say.

  But really, what was there left to say at this point?

  “I’ll pick up a new filter on my way home. But I’ll have to take my truck to work, which means you’ll be stranded.”