by Dee Tenorio
Susie brought her hand up to her aching temple. She didn’t need this, even if Amanda was right. “I will, I just…can’t yet.”
Can’t tell him. Can’t face him. Can’t give him what he needs, what he deserves.
“You mean you won’t.”
Yes, she did.
“Three more days, Mandy. Please. I just need three more days.”
The quiet between them stretched long and loud, but finally Amanda gave in. “Fine. Three days. But if you don’t talk to him by then, I’ll do it for you.”
Susie could only nod, drag herself to the glorified lawn chair and close her eyes as her body sank into the sagging cushions. If a few tears fell, hot and splashing down her cheeks, well, she decided not to notice them.
The options, Locke Jackman decided in yet another moment of grim dissatisfaction, were not plentiful. He could count the money for the evening bank drop—again. He could clean the stock—again—in the hopes that the elder twins would come home early enough to have dinner with him—which was just depressing.
Or he could go home and soak up the silence. And the dark. Lots of dark in the house these days. No one leaving lights on as they passed because they were all such pansies they couldn’t admit they were afraid. No one wrestling out their arguments. Even the clanking of weights from the basement would be welcome some nights. But no. Instead the utter silence of the house rang in his ears like an air-raid siren until he hated being in there at all. Not even his work in the Boathouse took his mind off the quiet. With the elder twins off doing only God knew what—they were beside themselves with their newfound “freedom” now that they were living in the apartment above the store—even this place was starting to echo with the same quiet.
His hands tightened on the thick blue bag with the day’s earnings inside.
I won’t think about her.
A failed hope, since obviously, he already was. That was the problem with all the damn quiet. No noise meant no distraction, and no distraction meant no way to keep his mind from traveling to familiar memories of a statuesque brunette who smelled like flowers and felt like heaven…with a tongue like hell itself.
That thought should not make you happy.
But it did.
Sure she was caustic when she felt like it, but he’d always enjoyed women with spirit. Strong women who weren’t afraid of him or their own thoughts and opinions. He had brothers for those rare times he felt the need to tell someone else what to think. Susie would go toe to toe with him over anything if the topic was important enough. Usually…
That’s what was killing him. All the time she’d been in Rancho del Cielo, she never balked at facing him. Seemed to enjoy it even, though he had picked up a touch of surprise every time. As if she couldn’t believe she’d just done it. That had charmed him, even though she’d been slowly twisting his nerves, his libido and his self-control into knots. All three were frayed through these days. Because when Susie looked at him now, it was with trepidation. Fear, from the one person he never expected it. That hurt almost as much as her rejection. Rejection he couldn’t bring himself to accept, not when she watched him with a hunger he could feel on his skin and deep in his own belly.
Need, he concluded, was an evil bitch. And it had both him and Susie in a tight grasp. The question was, could either of them get out of it?
An even better one—did she want to?
Because despite all the confusion and gut-wrenching separation, he didn’t. All he wanted was more. More of her voice, more of her scent, her vitality. He missed her, damn it. Even before she’d come to his bed, she’d at least been there for him to talk to. Argue with. Hell, just sit next to, both of them pretending to ignore how badly they wanted to touch. He never imagined he’d look back on that sensation longingly, but that’s the situation he was in. Wishing he could just get close enough to her again to imagine touching her.
It’d be pathetic if he gave a damn what anyone thought. Anyone but Susie, anyway. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the first clue what she was thinking. Or how he could find out.
The bell from the front of the store startled him out of his thoughts, thank God. Another couple minutes and he might have had to slap himself. Again.
He turned away from the register in the middle of the room, surprised to see his sister’s fair hair as she poked her face in the door. “Mandy?”
“Oh good, I didn’t miss you.” Her keys jangled as she pulled them from the door. “I was afraid the elder twins were the ones in here.”
He frowned. “You need something?”
There it was, the twist of her mouth that was half grimace, half sheepish grin. When she was five, it meant she’d just done something she wasn’t supposed to. Nowadays, it meant she was about to.
“Whatever you’re up to, Mandy, I don’t want any part of it.” He’d done all the scheming he was capable of to get her with Cole, the guy she’d been nuts about since she was a kid. And he’d more than learned his lesson about it, too. Which was specifically why he limited his opinion-control options to his brothers. Grown women, it seemed, didn’t like being told what to think. Or do. Or feel. They didn’t much like “helpful suggestions” either, but he was a man, not a saint. Better to keep himself from the temptation to do what needed doing by not knowing the first thing about the situation.
“I’m not up to anything. Not really—”
“Bye, Mandy.”
“I just need someone strong, okay? I’m not asking you to commit a cardinal sin. I just knew the twins wouldn’t help, but if you were here…”
Any of their brothers would gladly give a limb if Mandy asked it of them, which meant— “Susie?”
The guilty grin widened.
“No.” He turned back toward the register. Yup, definitely counting the money bag again.
“Come on, Locke. You don’t even know what I’m asking for help with.”
“I know she doesn’t want me there.” That was all he needed to know.
“She won’t even know you were there. Please, Locke, I really need you.”
He stopped, holding in a sigh. He was really starting to hate that word. “What’s going on?”
“Susie’s asleep on the changing-room couch. She’s been kinda sick, and you know her, she doesn’t rest like she should. I let her sleep all afternoon, but I can’t get her to wake up, and I have to meet Cole in an hour for that thing with his mother he doesn’t want to go to…” She kept talking, but he stopped listening around the time she said she couldn’t get Susie to wake up. By the time she caught up with him, he was already at the door of Susie’s lingerie shop, about to stalk in and find out what was wrong.
“Locke, wait, geez.” Amanda managed to get in front of him, her hands on his chest to slow him to a stop. “She’s okay, just ran herself down, and she’s sleeping like a brick. I can’t get her upstairs by myself and I can’t leave her down here. If you could carry her up to her apartment I’d feel better about leaving her alone.”
He ground his teeth. Amanda’s logic was sound, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think his little sister wasn’t taking advantage of the opportunity. The question was, was he bastard enough to go along with it?
Amanda put on her pleading face.
Susie would tear him a new one when she woke up to find him holding her. “How sick has she been?”
The pleading look flashed into a satisfied grin, but like the smart woman she was, Amanda didn’t gloat. “Not emergency-room sick, if that’s what you’re worried about. She’ll be fine if she can just get some sleep and maybe eat a little more. All the extra work to keep up with orders is running her down. If she’d just give herself a chance to really recover, but you know Susie…”
Why did she say that with that hint of innuendo?
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If we just stay quiet, I bet she won’t even know you were here.”
Yes, because he was so known for his chatter.
Amanda must have gathered his sarcasm from hi
s face because she zipped her lip and led the way to the back of the store. Past the red-velvet curtain and to the woman curled up on a couch, practically in a ball. You’d never know she was a hair under six feet tall with her body tucked so protectively into itself. She hadn’t slept that way in his bed up at the cabin. Then, she’d been loose-limbed and molded around him.
What are you so afraid of, baby?
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but Amanda was too close and too curious, so he bit the words back and bent low to slip his arms beneath her. She moaned, rolling into his chest, nuzzling her face into his throat as he stood. Like ivy, her arms slid around his neck and she sighed his name.
Balm and torment, all in one.
How could she keep pushing him away when she was obviously so pleased to have him there?
More important, how the hell was he supposed to let her go now that she was back in his arms?
Chapter Two
The smell of something mouthwatering tugged at her senses. Sleep, thick and heavy, still held her tight, but Susie could feel herself grudgingly rising out of the dreamlessness. She groaned, absolutely not wanting to go. She loved sleep. She needed sleep. Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep. But the richer the scent, the more her body pulled at her to wake the hell up.
It had to be a figment of her imagination, though, because she hadn’t bought much worth cooking in over a month and that smell had slow boil written all over it. Savory, but not heavy. Soft spices her mind tried to pick out of the warm air. Which was another thing. With winter well on its way, usually her apartment was cold enough for her to need a pile of blankets no matter where she sat. But she was comfortable, toasty even. Her stomach growled, rolling so hard she swore it moved on the outside. Which meant she was definitely awake. Damn it.
All right, so she whimpered a little at that prospect. The only one who might hear her was Amanda, who had to be the one behind that deliciously light smell of something good. The Cracker Princess, trying to be helpful. Far more rested than she’d been in weeks, Susie opened one eye, willing to be forgiving. Especially if Amanda had brought her homemade bread—
The other eye popped open in surprise as she took in her dim surroundings. She blinked, rubbing her face and finally realizing she was on her own bed, the light outside the door casting the room into golden-hued half-tones.
How the hell had she gotten here?
The old iron frame squeaked as she sat up, trying to get her bearings, almost masking the clanking of what sounded like someone doing dishes. Dishes? Okay, there was hunger-inspired forgiveness and then there was going too far. She hadn’t done her dishes in nearly a week, just too damn tired to do more than fall on her couch and sleep. There weren’t a lot, because she hadn’t wanted much in the way of food either, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t need taking care of and if she did, she’d do it her damn self. Lit with righteous fire, she slid off the bed and stormed into the open living area.
And stopped dead in her tracks.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Locke’s shoulders stopped moving, the sound of determined scrubbing coming to an abrupt end. She didn’t want to be amused at the sight of this giant man hunched down to reach her mini-sink, towel over his shoulder, legs braced wide so he could keep himself in place. Like a Mack truck trying to pull into a compact parking space.
He turned, straightening a bit more, the spiky tips of his hair brushing the round light fixture on the sloping ceiling. She’d thought the wall-length kitchen was too small for her, but for Locke, it was just laughable. Except she couldn’t afford to laugh. He’d take it as acceptance and make himself comfortable taking over. Not in this fucking lifetime.
“Well?”
“Soup’s ready. Sit down, I’ll bring you a bowl.” He turned back to his scrubbing as if she wasn’t standing there, sparks likely shooting out of her head.
“I will not sit down. Why are you in my apartment? What the hell gives you the right—”
“Mandy let me in when you wouldn’t wake up.”
“I—what?”
He grabbed two bowls from the dish rack and pivoted to the stove to start dishing up whatever he’d been cooking. “She didn’t want to leave you downstairs in the store, and the girl never did have much upper-body strength, so she needed someone who could get you to your bed.”
Her mouth clapped shut on her indrawn breath. Oh sure, like she was walking into that one. One verbal volley and he’d show her exactly how good he was at getting her to her bed.
Instead, all she did was watch him set the bowls on her kitchenette table—which he’d no doubt cleared, damn him—and spin back for two spoons from the drawer. Without asking, he settled himself in the small metal chair like an ogre at a tea party and started eating.
Her hands curled into fists, and those little lights of rage she’d started calling “Locke-dots” sprinkled her vision. “Y-you…you…you…”
“Come sit. Eat while it’s hot.”
“What?”
“Eat. It’ll get gooey if you let it get too cold.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth. Okay, not shoveled, he had better manners than that, but she was too mad to be a stickler for details.
“You unbelievably presumptuous bastard!”
He nodded.
“How dare you just come in here like you own the place?”
More nodding.
“This is my house. I’m not one of your siblings that’s dumb enough to give you free rein.”
He put a spoonful in his mouth like he was at a dinner theatre or something.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
Another bite. She put her hands on her hips, waiting for him to answer, a fact he didn’t seem to register was required of him. Before she could jump on him for that, the timer on the stovetop went off with that ear-piercing ding. He got up, opened the oven and pulled out a loaf of Amanda’s homemade bread. Butter and garlic wafted to her nose. Oh, damn him… How was she supposed to stay mad when he had that?
“Where did that come from?”
“Had Amanda steal it from the elder twins when I sent her to lock up my store.” He pulled the split loaf out and set the cookie sheet on the stove next to the soup. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a conspiratorial grin, stealing her breath and probably not even realizing it. “Thought you might appreciate that.”
She closed her eyes, trying desperately to hold on to her anger. Unfortunately, it seeped away from her, leaving her tired and hungry. In too many ways. One smile—so small most people wouldn’t ever recognize it—and she melted for him. Every. Single. Time.
“You have to go. Now.” Before she threw herself at him again. Crawled on his lap and rubbed herself over every delicious inch of his body. Maybe when she was done with that, she could lick— No. Absolutely not. She shook off that imagining before she broke out into a sweat. “Right now.”
His sigh should have pushed her back a step. “It’s just dinner, Susie.”
Sure it was. Last time, they’d just been talking. She opened her eyes to give him a glare.
Back in the chair, he’d leaned his big body against the wall next to the table, that haggardness she’d seen earlier making him impossibly sexier. Golden bristles of a heavy five-o’clock shadow on his jaw and cheeks. Heavy-lidded blue eyes, shadowed and watchful, peered at her with a patience that made her whole body vibrate. He must have remembered too, because a slow, sensual smile spread across his face, freeing dimples on either side and showing off his perfect white teeth. Tigers couldn’t look so predatory.
Susie dropped into the chair opposite him, her knees shaking and her underwear in a state she refused to admit to.
His brows rose in question.
“Shut up and eat.” She grabbed her own spoon and stabbed it into the bowl. Keep your eyes on the plate and pretend he’s not here. He’s not here. Food magically created itself and he’s not here.
A deep, warm chuckle forced its way through her mantra.<
br />
Don’t talk to him. He’ll go away if you don’t talk to him. A total lie, but it wasn’t like she was listening to herself anyway. She was already glaring at him again. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing. Bread?” He offered a torn piece of the loaf with one hand, his gaze gobbling her up at the same time.
“You suck at the innocent act, Locke, so knock it off already.” She snatched the bread from him. She was mad, not stupid.
His big shoulder shrugged as he tore another piece for himself. “It’s just nice to see you being more like…you.”
“Which is?” This ought to be good. She blew on the steaming spoonful of what looked like some kind of rice soup with pieces of chicken in it. Did he find that in her freezer or was it something else purloined from the elder twins?
“Not afraid of me.”
Once more, her gaze snapped to his. “I’m not—”
“You have been.” Banked anger flared to life in his eyes.
She couldn’t help it, she flinched.
Locke’s mouth tightened into a flat line, his back straightened, affront filling every line of him.
Guilt, her new best friend, flooded her. She reached out without thinking, grabbing his hand, feeling worse when his rough fingers tightened reflexively around her own. “It’s not like that, all right? I know you’d never physically hurt me. You’re not that kind of man.”
“I’m not the kind who would hurt you any other way either,” he said quietly, his thumb sliding over the back of her hand.
Her breath shuddered out of her. Damn it, she didn’t want to have this talk with him. Not yet. But with every stroke of his finger, she softened a little bit more. Truth spilled out before she could stop it. “You might. Without even trying.”
Possibly more than anyone else in her life. A crazy sentiment, considering how acrimonious their relationship had been over the two years since they’d met, but that didn’t make it any less true. She trusted Locke, for small and grudging things, which was more than she trusted anyone else. He’d won it from her, though, with his forthrightness. The nobility that seemed a natural part of him. The fact that he’d managed to raise his siblings without killing or maiming any of them—a feat she certainly couldn’t have promised, especially not with that brood. But every single one of them would jump in front of a train for him, a fact he never seemed to exploit.