by Lucy Leroux
“Still kind of chummy considering who he is.” Ethan picked up the pencil and twirled it. “If I were you, I’d keep an eye on the situation.”
“Fine,” Jason grumbled. “But I bet I’m right. I’m sure Maggie has no idea who this McLachlan character really is, let alone who his people are.”
Chapter 3
There was a picture of the mobster’s son on her phone. And he had his arm around her.
Although the pic only showed them from the waist up, he could see that Maggie was wearing a bikini on what was clearly some far-off beach. Behind her and the grinning asshole with the oversized pecs was an expanse of sugar-white sand. In the distance was an impossibly blue ocean, the kind one had to fly to the Caribbean to find.
Fuck!
It was their seventh date, and Jason had convinced himself that Maggie was as close to perfect as human women got. She didn’t insist on being taken to two-hundred-dollar dinners or drinks every night. Unlike the last few girls he dated, Maggie liked eating fast food—if it was tasty and hot, she was happy. She didn’t count calories or make him feel guilty by eating only rabbit food in front of him. Instead, she stayed active.
Maggie was always on the go. Somehow after running all over town for work, she still had the energy to join him for a raucous night of ice skating that got unexpectedly competitive.
It was the first time I’ve been asked to leave a skating rink.
Maggie was hot and sweet with just enough wildness to keep him on his toes. After only a few weeks, he knew that he was falling for her—hard.
But then she’d made the mistake of leaving her phone out in the open after eating an entire plateful of wings. Before he could stop himself, he’d snatched the thing up, easily deciphering the passcode by trying the numbers that had traces of barbecue sauce on them. Among the many pictures of the Caislean hotel, he found some of her girlfriends and a small, but significant, amount of the mobster.
To make matters worse, Calen McLachlan wasn’t the only young and attractive man in her pictures either. There was a whole assortment to curse over. Prominent among them were two other dark-haired men who looked like brothers. Those two were way too liberal with their hugs in the photos.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie emerging from the restaurant bathroom. He quickly put the phone back on top of her purse. Forcing a smile, he tried to pick up their conversation where they had left off, reminding himself to take a serious look at McLachlan. If he saw something to alarm him, he would confront her about him. Until then, he would leave it alone.
Everyone was entitled to a past, right?
I’m falling in love. Maggie had never felt this way about a man before. Ever since that first night at the club, Jason had been constantly in her thoughts or at her side.
He hadn’t played any games—no waiting three days to call for him. He had wanted to see her again as soon as possible, so they met during their lunch hour. Lunch had led to dinner and phone calls that lasted until two in the morning every night that week. The only reason the conversations didn’t continue until dawn was because they both worked.
Of course, not everything was perfect. She was too anxious to tell him her real circumstances. Things were going well now, but Jason might balk or freak out when he found out her family owned the Caislean.
It had happened before. She had dated a nice guy named Maleek who had a regular office job. When he found out who she was, he’d become irate, breaking up with her on the spot. He accused her of being just another rich girl, a parasite who didn’t have to work for a living but lived off her inheritance.
Maggie had tried to defend herself—she and her brothers had built their hotel business almost from scratch. Right after her parents had died, there had been some trying financial times. Liam’s drive and ruthless determination had changed all that. He had harnessed their other brother Patrick’s charm and wit and turned him into a killer salesman, one capable of meeting Liam’s exacting standards. Together, they had built an empire.
Although they had accomplished a lot without her, Maggie had rolled up her sleeves and done her part as soon as she was old enough. But that didn’t stop people from labeling her as just another rich socialite, despite her intentionally low public profile.
It was with some apprehension that she’d finally told Jason her last name at the end of their first date. If he had a problem with her wealth, she wanted to know sooner rather than later. But Jason had just smiled and asked her for a second date with an excited, “Do you like ice skating?”
She’d said yes, and things had taken off from there. Because Jason was new to the city, he was eager to see and do everything. It was fun acting as an unofficial tour guide. He wasn’t backward about telling her what he didn’t enjoy either—which was nice. As a hotel heiress, she had attracted a few yes-men before, and it was annoying when they pretended to love everything she did. Jason hated hockey and Indian food, both of which she adored. Aside from that, and an aversion to certain bars, he was more than willing to run all over Boston with her.
Unlike so many men, Jason never assumed she would only enjoy typical date activities like dinner and dancing. When it was his turn to suggest an activity, he took her go-kart racing and to an arcade. Maggie knew he was something special when she kicked his butt on a vintage Street Fighter game. Instead of grumbling or asking for a rematch, he cheered with good humor. Her heart gave a hard squeeze when he held her hand up like a boxing announcer before declaring her the winner to the entire arcade. His joy was genuine, with no trace of macho resentment.
A guy who let you win was one thing, but one who took pride in your victory was quite another. Her FBI agent was fun and easygoing, but there was something about him. He made her feel secure and like she was flirting with danger at the same time.
Christmas was only a few weeks away. Although there was no snow on the ground, the city was decorated in gilt and cheery reds. This was her favorite time of the year, and she and Jason had been on another amazing date. They’d gone to her favorite sushi place in Chinatown and were cutting through Boston Common to a bar she knew served mulled wine.
In no real hurry to get out of the cold as long as Jason was with her, Maggie chatted to him about her day. She kept her references vague enough so he didn’t pick up on exactly what she did. As far as Jason knew, she was a social coordinator for the hotel. It wasn’t a real position, but she would have to think about adding it to her official job title. It encapsulated what she did rather well.
Both were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t notice the pair of thieves sizing them up—not until one of them ran past, hitting Jason hard from the left.
“Hey!” Jason yelled, turning to chase after the guy. As he did, the second man came up on her right. After snatching her purse, the second thief ran in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t notice the purse was slung around her shoulder. It got caught on her neck, choking her as the man made a break for it.
The assailant kept pulling until they were in a violent tug-of-war she would almost assuredly lose. Desperate to breathe, Maggie tried to pull the strap over her head. She no longer cared if the asshole got her purse—she needed air.
But the thief simply yanked it back, unaware the strap was still around her neck. Coughing and gasping, she pulled back on the strap, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe—and scream.
A loud roar filled her ears. For a moment, she thought it was the wind. Belatedly, she realized it was Jason. His howl of outrage was deafening. Before she could blink, his hand shot out in front of her face, pulling on the strap with enough force to make the second thief lose his footing. The man spun and fell toward them, his face on a collision course with Jason’s fist.
Maggie could feel the thud in her bones when the two made contact. The thief fell to the ground and didn’t get up.
Jason put his foot on the fallen man’s back and kept yelling, “Hands up!” It took her a moment to realize
he was shouting at the other man, the one who had hit him. The first man had only made it a few yards before realizing one of his intended victims was pointing a gun at him. By the time her gaze swung back, the second thief had his hands up, pleading with Jason not to shoot.
The rest was a blur. Running feet signaled the approach of a pair of cops in uniform.
“Stop right there,” the first uniform bellowed, his gun out.
“I’m reaching for my badge,” Jason said as he reached into his coat and flipped open the leather folio that held his identification. “These men tried to mug us. I want you to take them in.”
The second officer put his gun away and reached for his handcuffs. Before she knew it, the two thieves were arrested in short order.
Still in a daze, Maggie marveled as Jason managed to wrap up everything succinctly. He had an innate authority the other cops deferred to without question. Throughout his discussion with them, he kept an arm around her, caressing her back with a comforting, and most likely unconscious, touch.
“This is my office number,” Jason said. “I want you to call me after you file the charges. Make sure to dot your I’s and cross your T’s. I don’t want these shits getting off on a technicality. Wherever these guys go after—I want to know.”
Maggie rubbed her neck and shuddered, still too stunned to say very much. Once the cops took the men away, she tried to speak, despite her painful throat. Her voice was hoarse and thready, a detail that made Jason curse aloud. He wiped the involuntary tears she hadn’t been aware she was shedding.
“Those assholes are lucky I didn’t see these tears before they got hauled away.” He kissed the tracks on her cheeks. “Baby, I should take you home.”
To her, home was the hotel. With both Liam and Patrick in town, there was no way they would leave her alone if she brought a man to her rooms. In fact, once they found out about the attempted mugging, they would insist on having her examined by the on-site physician. The news of the attack would spread like wildfire after that. In no time, they would be inundated with concerned staff—her extended family.
She could picture the chaotic scene now. “I have sort of a roommate situation,” she rasped. “Can you take me to your house?”
Jason’s lips parted and his eyes heated like quicksilver. After a beat, he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”
The bright overhead lights revealed the friction burn on Maggie’s neck in stark detail. Jason muttered under his breath as he gently lifted her curls out of the way and tilted her head toward the light to better illuminate the injury.
She was sitting on his bathroom counter next to the sink, her legs hanging off the side in front of him as he conducted a thorough examination.
“Really, I’m fine now,” she repeated for the second time.
She was cupping the mug of warm grog he’d thrown together when they arrived at his apartment. It was his grandmother’s recipe for colds, but it worked as a throat tonic as well. The fact it was made with liberal amounts of whiskey and honey had done a lot to smooth Maggie’s frayed nerves. At least her hands had stopped shaking.
Her voice did sound much better, but Maggie still winced every time she swallowed—which she did again at that moment.
Jason swore. He was an FBI agent for fuck’s sake. Maggie should have been safe with him, not a hair on her head touched. The raw red mark on her delicate skin was a personal affront, a visible indictment on his ability to protect her.
“Could you stop looking like that?” she asked in a low voice.
He frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you want to punch through the wall. I’m okay, really, thanks to you and this wicked brew.” She held up the mug and grinned before taking another sip.
He set the mug aside and pressed his forehead to hers. “I promise from now on, I will take better care of you.”
She pressed her lips to his for a too-brief moment. “That’s very sweet, but I’m not mugged on a regular basis.”
“Neither am I.” He sighed. “In fact, it’s a first for me. Ethan will never let me live this down. We’re trained to be aware of our surroundings.” He paused to frown at her. “I was too focused on our conversation…and the way your lips move. You’re an incredible distraction.”
Maggie’s eyes widened in mock outrage. “So, this is my fault?”
Feeling some of his levity returning, he grinned. “Completely.”
She giggled and tried to kick him. Her foot glanced off his leg and slid up until it was pressed to the outside of his thigh. Heat pulsed through him, and he stared down at her face. He was strangely out of breath. He stepped closer, tugging her other legs until they were both wrapped around his waist.
His hands moved to cup her ass, pulling her tight against him. His self-control, already threadbare after the mugging, went up in flames the moment her arms went up around his neck. He took possession of her mouth, his lips slanting over hers as their tongues met and tangled.
As he pressed closer to her, his cock throbbed behind the thick denim of his jeans. She moaned. Impatient to have her underneath him, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the nearest place he could lay her down. He set Maggie on the overstuffed micro-suede cushions of his couch, stretching on top of her when she tugged at his shirt.
Heat flooded him, and his cock swelled rigid. Aware that he was close to bursting, he tried to slow things down. The kisses lengthened and stretched, growing languorous, but still deliciously hot. His mouth flamed up her neck and broke off, suddenly recalling her injury. Was he hurting her?
“What’s wrong?” Maggie’s voice was still hoarse.
He swore under his breath before sitting up, away from her. “Shit. Okay, I really want you to stay, but not because of what happened tonight. I’m sorry. I’m not feeling very levelheaded here. I’m still pissed I let you get hurt.”
Maggie sat up too, blushing a rosy pink. “That wasn’t your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself. It was a random mugging. Because of you, those guys are in jail…but maybe you’re right. I should head home. I’m not feeling very steady myself.”
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Why don’t I call you a cab? Tomorrow, we can meet at the cafe for lunch.”
“I will call one, but lunch sounds good,” she said before looking around bashfully as if she were suddenly self-conscious. “I should get going.”
He waited until the car was five minutes out before walking her to the door. “Text me when you arrive home,” he requested.
She nodded and kissed him one more time as he opened the door. It closed after her with a loud click.
Fuck!
Jason knew he’d done the right thing, but it was literally killing him. So far, he’d managed to stay a gentleman on their dates. Too many times, his relationships had spiraled after getting physical too soon. His gut told him Maggie was special, and he was determined to do this right. Even though it hurt, he kept a tight rein on his urges and impulses around her, limiting their contact to a few brief kisses. He was determined to take things slow. However, after tonight, his resolve was in tatters.
At least I’m not the only one having a hard time in the restraint department. Maggie had been right there with him on the couch, at least until he’d done the selfless thing and sent her home. Idiot…
He heard a small noise. Jason put his eye to the peephole. She hadn’t left. As he watched, she raised a hand as if to knock, but hesitated, undecided.
Please stay.
Disappointment flooded him when she put her hand down and turned away. He slumped against the door. Raising his head, he stepped away, walking to the bathroom for another cold shower. At least he was saving a lot on his heating bill this month.
He spun around at the sound of the knock. Lunging for the door, he threw open the door and pulled Maggie into his arms.
Chapter 4
The door had barely closed at her back when Jason had her pinned against it.
“Oh, thank god,” he bre
athed into her mouth before kissing her so ravenously her vision swamped out.
Whimpering, Maggie could feel her bones melting as his mouth took possession, pouring all his heat and frustration into her. His hands moved over her, tugging at her clothes. His quick fingers opened her shirt, pulling it apart so his mouth could reach her décolletage. Jason ran his tongue over the top of her breasts, pressing her closer with a hand against her back like he was trying to prevent her from escaping—as if she wanted to.
His mouth closed over one lace-covered nipple and sucked hard, sending a shooting sensation straight to her cunt. Her channel spasmed hungrily, and she gasped and moaned aloud. The sound appeared to drive him crazy. Already impatient, Jason’s hands tore at the waistband of her wool pants, tugging them down and off, along with her panties, in one motion.
He started to pull her away from the door, but she was too impatient. “Here! Now,” she panted.
This time when she wrapped her legs around him, she was naked from the waist down. His muscular arms held her to him, her back to the door as his cock pressed against her. The silky head stroked her wet pussy, parting her inner folds with a blunt, insistent pressure.
“Christ, you are so tight,” he said in her ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth as he slowly and inexorably pushed inside her.
A tremor ran through her, and she tightened her hold on him. “It’s been a long time,” she whispered back evasively, worried he would stop if he knew the truth. She couldn’t let him—her whole body was crying out for him, aching for his possession. Jason was too honorable for his own good. If he knew she was a virgin, he’d stall and want to talk it out to make sure she was certain of him.
This had to happen now; she couldn’t wait anymore.
Time slowed as Jason flexed his hips, driving his cock inside her to the very hilt. Maggie cried out, feeling impossibly full, the hypersensitive nerve endings in her passage firing all at once as they were overwhelmed by pain and pleasure. It was too much—he was too big and there was too much sensation in a place that had never experienced anything remotely like this before.