The Pleasure Project (Jax)

by JAX

  Two years, three months, and six days, to be precise. Unfortunately, he was more appropriate age-wise for her daughter. She seriously doubted he was even out of his twenties, while she had crested the hill to forty, right after ditching her good-for-nothing husband two years ago.

  No, Jace with his broad shoulders, rock-hard abs, and excellent butt was off her menu. Ogling him while he was dripping wet and shivering drove home the fact that she was nothing but a skanky old cougar on the prowl for fresh meat.

  At dinner, her friends Yvette, Harley Jean, and Missy had teased her about hiring a manwhore to “water her garden after her looonng dry spell.” Somehow Evie couldn’t imagine bringing a man like that into her home/business and parading him around in front of her guests. And even though Constance didn’t live with her anymore, it seemed wrong to bring a hired stud into her daughter’s childhood home.

  So man-meat-for-hire was out of the question, and she’d promised not to jump on Jace and ride him like a wild stallion. God, the look on the poor guy’s face when he thought she meant to take him home for a little naked time. Evie had to bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. The thought of the two of them together was utterly ridiculous.

  So why couldn’t she stop picturing him in the nude, in her freshly scrubbed guest shower? In her mind’s eye, she saw him soaping up those incredible muscles, letting the lather slide across his skin and eventually down the drain. Did he have hair on his chest or was he smooth to the touch? And since she was wondering …

  He was tall with big hands and feet. In her limited experience, that usually translated into an equally sizable package. Not that she was ever going to find out, because she was going to stop entertaining thoughts of a naked Jace very soon. He was her guest, and a professional businesswoman shouldn’t fantasize about the clientele.

  If only it wasn’t so damn entertaining.

  Maybe she should join a support group: Skanky Old Cougars Anonymous.

  Her comm unit chirped, giving her something more pressing to do than lurking in his bedroom, waiting to offer to dry his back. With her tongue.

  Sprinting across the hall, Evie answered the call. “Evelyn Ripley.”

  “Hi, Mama.”

  Evie grinned at the stunning visage of her daughter. “Hey, baby girl. How are the wedding plans coming?” The words hardly stuck in her throat at all. She couldn’t possibly have a grown daughter old enough to be getting married.

  But Constance Ripley—the international supermodel—was very much a full-grown woman. At fifteen she’d been discovered when Evie had taken her to Hilton Head for spring break. A modeling agent had taken one look at Constance and the young woman’s life had changed practically overnight. Despite her success, Constance was still the sweet little girl who had snuggled on Evie’s lap on the back porch and watched the fireflies come out.

  Constance rolled her big blue eyes, the only feature she’d taken from Evie. “You know how this kind of thing goes, a zillion details and not enough hours in the day. It sure would be nice if you could help.”

  Evie swallowed around a lump of guilt. She should be helping her only child plan her wedding. But her hope that Constance would call the whole thing off was still alive and well, and it seemed faithless to help plan an event she desperately wanted to stop. “It’s just so busy here, you know, with foliage season coming up and all.”

  She felt like a heel, lying to her daughter. The only guest in the place was the stray she’d picked up along the side of the road.

  “But you are going to make it to my bachelorette party next week, right? And stay for the wedding?” Constance’s hopeful face would be her undoing.

  “Yeah, I’ve arranged for Harley Jean to keep an eye on the place for me.”

  “Good, because Maude and I have got a hell of a surprise in store. You’re gonna love it, Mama.”

  Evie eyes teared up a little. “As long as I get to be with you, baby girl, that’s what counts. But a little free wine never goes amiss.”

  Constance’s smile seemed a shade forced.

  Evie tilted the screen. “Uh-oh, I know that look. What’s the matter?”

  “I never could keep anything from you, could I?”

  “Nope, now spill it.”

  “Okay. Well, don’t flip out or anything, but I asked Daddy to give me away.”

  Shame burned Evie’s face. “Aw, baby, that’s nothing you need to be worried about. Of course you asked him; he’s your father, and he’s supposed to give you away.” Even if he had never done much to keep her. It had been Evie’s family’s inn that had provided for them. Yon hadn’t even helped her run it. His idea of helping was to inform her when something broke.

  The bitter chill of the past could stay there as far as she was concerned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior, all right?”

  Constance smiled, then looked over her shoulder. “David’s waiting for me. We’re going to a club opening tonight.”

  Evie studied the green flames dancing in her hearth as the eco-logs cracked and snapped, replicating real fire without the need for chopping down trees. What different lives she and her daughter led.

  “Love you, baby girl.”

  “Love you, too, Mama. Comm-link me your flight schedule and I’ll see you next week.”

  Evie signed off and stared at the blank screen. Only a week to go, two ‘til the wedding. It didn’t look as though her master plan of waiting for Constance to realize she was too young for commitment would happen before the deed was done.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Evie jumped at the sound of Jace’s voice. She turned to see him leaning idly against the door frame to her room, looking like sin incarnate. The sweats he wore rode low on his hips, and the white T-shirt he’d pulled on was paper thin, barely concealing his hairless chest and miles of tanned skin. How long had he been standing there? She hadn’t told him she had a grown daughter who was old enough to get married, and the thought of underscoring their age difference yet again depressed her.

  He held his hands up in front of him in a peacekeeping gesture. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping, just wondering if you had anything to eat around here.”

  What a crappy hostess she’d been, lusting after him and wallowing in despair while he starved. She’d have to turn in her Southern Belle card. Determined to make it up to him, she breezed past him toward the kitchen. “Absolutely. Follow me.”

  God, he smelled divine, like clean male skin and spice combined with her homemade lemongrass body scrub. Though the upstairs suites had sonic showers, Evie liked the old-fashioned luxury of a water shower.

  Why had she put Jace in the room across the hall? With the inn empty, he could have had any room in the place. Putting him on the ground floor gave him easier access to the kitchen, the dining room, the library.

  And to her.

  She’d promised not to attack him, but if Jace sleepwalked into her room and stripped off his clothes, she would welcome him with open arms.

  “This is a great place,” he observed, studying the architectural detail of the newel post, the exposed rafters stained a deep mahogany, the river stone fireplace that stretched the length of the lobby, and the antique chaises she’d reupholstered herself in faux leather and edged with brass tacks.

  Her chest swelled with pride. “Thank you. It’s been in my family for seven generations, all the way back to the 1980s.”

  “Long time.” He grinned as he ran his hand along the smooth railing. The way he took his time as if tactically memorizing the grain of wood made her nipples tighten almost painfully. “You live alone?”

  It was a perfectly natural question, but years spent trying to convince everyone from her loser ex to her best friends that she could manage the inn alone got her back up. “Yes, Green Oaks is a one-woman operation, and I do just fine, thank you very much.”

  He held his hands up again in that self-defense gesture. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  Blowing out a sigh, Evie shook her
head. “I know. Sorry, sore subject. Come on into the kitchen and—”

  The words were cut off when the doorbell chimed. Jace’s brow drew down as he checked the time on his comm link. “It’s after eleven. You expecting anyone?”

  Evie shook her head.

  “Got that pistol handy?”

  “I’m sure it’s just a late drop-in. I bet the storm held them up.” Even so, she patted her hip to make sure her piece was ready to rock and roll as she moved to the door.

  The man standing on her porch was neither friend nor guest. A burglar would have been more welcome because she could have shot him, no problem. She felt more than saw Jace draw up tight to her back, but was too stunned to notice.

  “Yon, what the fracking hell are you doing here?” Evie asked her ex-husband.

  * * *

  2

  It had been a long time since Jace had sex for the sake of sex. So long, in fact, that he’d forgotten about the nervous jitters that accompanied the possibility of rejection. Typically, a woman who hired a pleasure companion wanted sex from him. Once money changed hands, Jace could take his time reassuring the timid, coaxing the shy, or getting down and dirty with the bolder types. Part of what made him so good at his job was his ability to read women and give them exactly what they wanted before they even asked. Jace was nothing if not a hard worker. Such a dedicated service provider, in fact, that he hadn’t left much time for a personal life.

  Hell, he was practically a virgin again.

  While he showered, he’d mulled over the dilemma. He could just come out and offer his services to Evie, lay it all out there and see if she took the bait. With her as an eager participant he could work his magic, spend hours exploring the full curves of her breasts, the dip at her waist, the smoothness of her generous hips until she begged him to fuck her.

  Two things stopped him. His hostess didn’t seem like the type to hire a man for pleasure. After seeing the hard work she’d invested in her deserted but well-maintained inn, he just couldn’t imagine her having extra money to toss at him for a night of unbridled passion.

  Plus, his pride had taken enough hits for one day. It was one thing if she rejected him, but quite another for her to reject him based solely on his occupation. Boone was not New New York City. As his family had demonstrated earlier, people here didn’t think the same way as he did. At times he hardly believed he’d been hatched here with these salt-of-the-earth types.

  So he’d been at a loss as to how exactly to proceed with Evie. His plan had been to talk with her some more, get to know her over a meal, and feel his way into familiar territory. A glass of wine, a few laughs, with him carefully steering the conversation away from his family. But seeing the large and obviously drunken man looming over her, all thoughts of seduction fled.

  “Baby.” Yon tripped over the doorstep and would have fallen directly on top of Evie if Jace hadn’t yanked her out of the way. Instead, the massive giant crashed to the floor at their feet.

  “Yon, no, you can’t stay here.” Evie toed the man with her boot.

  “You’re my wife,” the drunk slurred.

  “Ex-wife. Emphasis on the ex.” Evie’s little love taps to the man’s ribs grew in ferocity.

  Yon pushed himself to his knees and smirked at her. “Yeah, but you ain’t got a man since me. Constance told me you want me back.”

  Evie snorted. “Like I’d want a cavity.”

  Color ran along Yon’s cheekbones, though whether it was from the insult or liquor was impossible to tell. “No other man’ll have your fat ass.”

  Evie’s mouth dropped open. Jace thought for sure she’d kick him as hard as she could, hopefully landing the blow right on the bastard’s junk. But instead she just stood there, embarrassment flushing her face as she refused to meet his gaze.

  Protectiveness swelled in his chest. Evie’s lush curves may not be fashionable the way they were fifty years ago, but she was built like a goddess, all soft sweetness covering that iron will. He knew plenty of men who would line up to be with a woman who looked like her, with himself at the front of the pack.

  Jace didn’t know who Constance was, but it was clear she was misinformed. Never one to let an opportunity slip past him, Jace put an arm around Evie’s shoulders. “And you heard wrong. Evie’s with me now.”

  Both Evie and her load of an ex stared at him with the same expression of surprised disbelief. Jace planted a kiss on Evie’s forehead, a gesture of intimacy he’d seen his father use on his mother earlier that day.

  Evie recovered first, blinking away tears, trying to pull away. “Jace, you don’t have to—”

  Jace tightened his grip on her, enjoying the soft female flesh pressed deliciously up against his side. “Stake my claim? Sure seems like it. You’ve been keeping me a secret for too long, honey. It’s time the world knew the truth.”

  With great effort, Yon heaved himself upright. He might’ve been trying to scowl at Jace, but swaying on his feet the way he was it looked more like he was fighting the urge to hurl. “What’s he talkin’ ’bout, Evie?”

  Jace stared the drunk down. “That we’re together.”

  “Bullshit.” Yon spat the word along with some saliva. His breath reeked of Wild Turkey, and the sour unwashed smell emanating off his body didn’t help. The man must have come directly off a weeklong bender to his ex’s doorstep. “There’s no way in hell you’re fucking my wife.”

  “Ex-wife,” Jace and Evie chorused in unison. Jace winked at her before he stepped in front of her, blocking her body from the drunk’s line of sight. “Now, I’d appreciate you taking your stinking carcass elsewhere. You’ve interrupted us long enough for one evening.”

  “Get outta my way, you little peckerhead.” Yon tried to shove him aside, but Jace had prepared for it. It’d been ages since he’d been in a fistfight, but some habits were so deeply ingrained they were second nature.

  Jace swung, his fist connected, and Yon fell, crashing over an antique end table, splintering the thing to bits. Braced on the balls of his feet, Jace waited, but the big bastard didn’t get up.

  Evie pushed past him to crouch over her ex. She heaved a sigh. “He’s still breathing.”

  “Of course he is. What, did you think I’d killed him with one blow? The guy has fifty pounds on me.” And a jaw of solid granite, but Jace kept that part to himself as he shook out his stinging hand.

  Evie stared down at the drunken lout. “I can’t believe you did that.” Her voice was low, stunned.

  Oh, no, she wasn’t one of those nonviolent types. If so, he’d probably killed his chances by decking the son of a bitch. The woman had pulled a gun on him for crissakes. Had he completely misread her? Jace decided that even if he had misinterpreted her, he wasn’t about to apologize for his actions.

  “He had it coming.”

  “For about the last twenty-two years, at least. Thank you, Jace.” Blue eyes filled with gratitude and what looked a lot like hero worship fixed on him and his heart stumbled over its next beat.

  Make your move! the lecherous part of his brain hissed. Strike while she’s grateful, don’t give her a chance to think on it.

  Though what came out surprised even him. “You’re welcome. Could I have some ice for my hand?”

  Way to go, Casanova.

  Evie moved quickly to his side, then took his hand in both of her small soft ones. “Let me see that.”

  Jace’s eyelids lowered as her thumbs glided over his skin, gently probing his bruised knuckles. “It’s been a while since I hit a guy.”

  “Do you usually hit women, then?”

  He knew she was being flippant, but her question broke him from his trance. “That was an incredibly shitty thing to say.”

  What in the hell was wrong with her? If Evie could have kicked her own ass, she would have done it. Jace had stood up for her, literally knocking Yon unconscious. Then he looked at her, eyes smoldering like the fire in the hearth, radiating sex the way her fireplace expelled heat. It had been s
o long since a man looked at her that way, with genuine desire burning in his gaze, it had unsettled her more than the confrontation with Yon. And then she had accused him of beating women.

  Even as a joke it wasn’t funny. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean …” Jace moved closer, so close she could feel the heat coming off him. “Not everyone is like him. Not every man is abusive.”

  “Yon never hit me,” she quickly corrected him.

  “From what I saw he was at least verbally abusive. I didn’t think you were the type of woman who would just roll over and take that.”

  Shame ripped through her like spikes through her veins. “I’m not. That’s why I divorced him.”

  “Then why is he here?” Jace shot back. “Why does he think it’s acceptable to show up at your doorstep smelling of booze and slinging insults? You haven’t set him straight.”

  Her hands landed on her hips. “Where the hell do you get off judging me? It’s not so cut-and-dry. Yon’s the father of my child; we have history. I can’t just banish him from my life.” No matter how much she wanted to.

  “You know what I think? I think you’re afraid to kick him to the curb, because if you did, you’d have nothing to keep you from moving on.”

  “Who are you to tell me what I feel?” Incensed, she stormed past him toward the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” Jace called after her.

  She didn’t bother to answer, too shaken to continue the conversation. Instead, she grabbed a clean tea towel from the drawer and scooped ice from the freezer, dumping it into the fabric. Retrieving a rubber band from her junk drawer, she secured the ends of the towel into a makeshift compress, her mind churning all the while.

  Why was she so riled up at Jace? Probably because she was burning with sexual need every time she looked at him, then having Yon show up to underscore her flaws killed even the fantasy. He represented an ugly part of her life, and she couldn’t help falling back into the role she’d played as his wife. God, how she hated being a doormat!

  “Evie,” Jace said quietly from behind her.