Forty Candles

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Forty Candles Page 3

by Virginia Nelson


  Although she did feel guilty, even as she tried to convince herself she wasn’t.

  “I was thinking of getting a cat. Which ones are available?” Pointing at the kennels, the sister—whichever one it was—smiled a winning smile which didn’t manage to hide the rabid speculation in her gaze.

  “None of those. Most of our cats are here for medical treatment, rather than adoption.” Since this is a veterinary clinic, not a pound. She didn’t say the last out loud, even if the sight of Jack’s sibling made her feel as awkward as a twelve year old girl bra shopping for the first time.

  “Oh. Well, I—” The sister shuffled and Chloe chewed her lip in new guilt. It wasn’t her fault Chloe slept with her brother about a thousand years ago. It also wasn’t her fault if Chloe projected her own guilt onto their lack of interaction, assuming they were judging her or something. Maybe they just never ran into one another…

  “Look, I’m sorry. Let me start again. None of these cats are available, but we do have a litter of kittens and one orange tom looking for homes. Would you like to meet them?” She didn’t bother trying to guess the name, figuring she’d look like an ass if she picked the wrong sister.

  “Great. I’m Ellie, by the way. I think you know my brother, Jack? Didn’t you guys go to school together or something?” Ellie smiled a smile that Chloe would bet her last dollar was fake. She wasn’t here for a cat—she was snooping.

  “We sure did!” Putting false cheer in her tone, Chloe waved for Ellie to follow her. “The cats are right through here. I really think you’ll like the tomcat. He’s a sweet boy, just needs the right home.” Chloe lied and figured it was fair play, considering Ellie had to be scouting because of some gossip she’d heard. The tom in question, Brutus as they’d dubbed him, was meaner than piss. He had ragged ears, one fang that hung out of his mouth too far making him drool nearly constantly, and a practically feral nature. He’d scratched every one of their techs—Chloe twice. “What do you think?”

  Ellie chewed her lip and considered the fat and somewhat evil looking feline. “Uh, sweet? So, I heard Jack came in here with a dog…did you manage to find his home?”

  Pulling on gloves, Chloe reached into the cage to withdraw a mostly calm, evil cat. “Not yet, no. Actually, your brother was just here and took Stark home with him.”

  Ellie, seeming determined to continue the conversation, reached out to try to pet Brutus, who took a swat at her. Withdrawing her hand before he could grab her, Ellie squeaked and yet didn’t back down. “Yeah, I thought I saw his truck. Look, you got me. I don’t think I want a cat after all. I want to talk about Jack.”

  Chloe nodded. “What about?” Shifting Brutus to her hip, she absently began to pet him. He calmed and considered Ellie with interest. Whether it was interest to be petted or considering whether or not he could eat her remained debatable.

  “When you two dated, you really messed him up.” Ellie straightened, putting her hand out with more determination. Brutus, fickle bastard that he was, rubbed his head into her touch and began a drooling purr. “I wanted to tell you not to hurt him again.”

  “Me? Hurt him?” Squeaking the words startled Brutus, who began to struggle. Shocking Chloe, Ellie reached out and took the large animal and began to croon to him.

  “Yes, you hurt him.”

  “Or what?” Damn Brutus for purring like a docile house cat and damn Ellie for making Chloe feel like she had to answer for a past that wasn’t all her fault. After all, Jack’d been the one who wanted her to be something she wasn’t, even when she’d proved with her own failings that she wasn’t fit for marriage. Jack’d been the one to paint castles in the air about their happily ever after while Chloe’d saved him from the eventual misery of divorce and who knew what other trauma.

  “Or nothing. I’m not here to threaten you, Chloe. I’m here to tell you not to hurt my brother. Woman to woman, I’ll tell you that my brother isn’t nearly as badass as he seems.”

  Chloe snorted. She’d never seen Jack as badass. He was a giant teddy bear, hence her protecting him. “Your brother doesn’t seem badass…and I’m not picking a fight by saying so. He’s got a huge heart, all squashy marshmallow inside. I’m not sure why you think he seems badass, but—”

  “Huh.” Brutus still purred in her arms, butting his head into Ellie’s chin for more love. “Maybe I misjudged you. Most people see his size—cowboy cop and all that—and assume he’s prickly or tough and he’s not.”

  “No.” She never would have guessed she’d end up laughing with one of Jack’s sisters, but they both chuckled at the idea of a badass Jack. “I never made that mistake.”

  “Anyway, I just wanted to ask you to tread gently.”

  Chloe wanted to defend herself. She wanted to tell his sister to not be a nosy bitch. She would have told Harper to say just that if she were in the same situation, as a matter of fact. She wanted to say that Jack’d taken a good strip out of her hide throughout the years, that she’d shed her share of tears over him, too. Instead, she just stood, staring at the tiny female version of Jack holding the meanest cat she’d ever met, and didn’t say a thing.

  “You don’t know me, and if Jack knew I came in here, he’d shove his foot up my ass sideways, but I figured I’d talk to you, ask you to be careful with him.” She shrugged. “He’s my only brother, after all, and someone has to look out for him.”

  I’ve always looked out for him. Everything I did, it was to protect him. You don’t understand how much divorce hurts, you with your perfect family who cares about each other and who can tame evil cats without trying. You don’t know what it’s like to be the one left behind.

  But Chloe didn’t say any of that, either. She only blinked and nodded.

  “I think I will adopt him. He’s a good guy. Looks rough, but once you get past that, he’s got a lot of love to give, don’t you think?”

  Chloe didn’t have an answer for Ellie, so she simply filed the paperwork and decided to try to forget the whole exchange.

  ***

  Sexual frustration.

  All her dirty thoughts about Jack—her ex, for goodness sake—could be attributed to sexual frustration and nothing more. She wasn’t actually considering starting something with him—she knew better. Chloe toweled off and gazed at her body in the full length mirror, considering the curves of her ivory flesh with a clinical eye. She still had it.

  Drying her hair then flat ironing it, she planned. None of her feelings for Jack were real, all of them being caused by a lack of sexual fulfillment. All she needed to do was catch up with one of the guys who kept asking her out—because she did still have it, damn it—have some nice meaningless, mind-boggling sex and it would clear her head.

  Squirting on the most expensive of her scents, she slipped into a silky confection intended to make her breasts look bigger, perkier, and like the perfect bedtime snack. Shaved, scented, lotioned, and primed, she’d even refreshed her manicure on the way home from work.

  Glancing in the mirror, she smiled at her reflection, pleased at the seductive image grinning back at her.

  Look out, men of Ashtabula County. Mama wants laid.

  Tugging on a low cut white tee shirt, tight enough to emphasize the breasts on display in the lingerie it hid, she then shimmied into a short denim skirt. Slipping on ballet flats, she deemed herself prepared for a mission of sex and texted one of the guys who’d been asking her out before she went out to face Jack.

  Jim was an accountant, all nerdy cuteness…he could talk nerdy to her. It’d be hot and, hopefully, he would do nasty things to her on his desk, clear her head, then she could bop over to Jack’s, tension abated, and check on Fluffy. Everything would fall back into place as it should be.

  Since Jim didn’t answer her text, she dialed into his office, humming to herself while she waited to ring through. Nothing put a girl in a better mood than the idea of hot sex with a nice, non-commitment obsessed man in a suit.

  “He’s not here.”

  “
What do you mean, he’s not here?”

  Speaking slowly, the secretary repeated, “He’s not here.”

  “He just texted me a half an hour ago that he was at work still.”

  The secretary sighed, sounding put off by her call. “Said something about a meeting and left. I’m not his babysitter.”

  What a waste of the good perfume. I can’t believe I shaved my legs for this.

  Fighting disappointment, Chloe headed over to Jack’s. Apparently, meaningless sex wasn’t in the cards. “I’ll just check on the stupid dog, go home, find my battery operated buddy and take care of business. I’m a big girl. I don’t need a man to find my satisfaction and if it is just an orgasm my body is craving, I can give it ten.” Sighing, she punched the steering wheel as she put the car in park. “And now I’m talking to myself. I’m going crazy from repression.”

  Stomping her way to his front porch, she sucked in a surprised breath to find his door leaning open, a gracious invite to flies or wasps.

  Rather than knocking, she called inside, “Jack?”

  No answer.

  Holding the handle so the door didn’t swing further open, she rapped her knuckles on it while calling again, “Jack, are you here?”

  Again, silence met her yell. Glancing back, she saw his truck parked next to his patrol car in the wide driveway and snorted. He had to be around somewhere.

  Wandering to the backyard, the crisp smell of cut hay and horses found her before the sound of the horses themselves. Softer than the sound of the horses, a dog barked.

  He had the dog out with the horses? Her feet beat against the uneven ground of the field, crossing it at a jog before she really considered it. “Jack?”

  “Chloe?” Breathless, red in the face and shirtless—the sight of him made her come to an abrupt halt as all thoughts sucked right out of her brain and shifted straight to her crotch.

  Corded muscles running down tattooed arms, slicked with sweat and tan, as the hot summer sun beat down on him. Abs straight out of a commercial for a gym, topped by pecs dotted by dark nipples just dusted with the faintest bit of dark hair, instantly made her fingers curl in desire to trace her hands across his body. Broad shoulders big enough for a woman to grab, yank herself up so she could wrap her legs around those narrow, denim clad hips, tip that cowboy hat back and kiss him till his eyes glazed with need.

  Since every single bit of that train of thought flashed crisper because of memories of doing exactly what she imagined, the wash of passion that punched her in the stomach had far more impact. “Uh—”

  “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone, Red, as I am to see you right now.”

  Images of him striding over, all bow-legged and masculine, picking her up and having his way with her flooded her mind, adding to the already moist heat gathering in her soaked panties. “Glerg.”

  “Stark’s in the pasture. He’s not listening worth a damn and has the horses spooked.”

  Did he just say take off your shirt, it’s hot out here? I’m pretty sure he said take off your shirt, Chloe. Standing, frozen in lust, she simply stared as he continued to close the distance between them.

  “I probably shouldn’t have let him run, but we were out fishing this morning. Turns out he can swim pretty well and I figured he could come out while I fed the horses. Well, that…Chloe, are you okay?”

  Those hips. Her entire focus ground down to the way they swiveled when he walked, reminding her in a visceral way of how he looked, push up style above her, lips curled in an animalistic way, while he drove into her body. Catching her lip between her teeth, she bit down before slowly releasing it. Oh, hell yes. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

  “Red, I can’t catch my dog.”

  “Yeah, I can help with that.” Forcing herself to focus, she whistled—one sharp sound with two fingers. Like a ball of black lightning, Fluffy bounded out of the shifting herd of horseflesh, racing towards her.

  “Shit. That was all I had to do? But I can’t whistle.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat and she choked it off with a fist to her mouth.

  “Chloe?”

  “Yeah, Jack?”

  “You’re looking at me funny this evening.”

  Fluffy landed on the ground in front of her, flopping to present his belly in an obedient way. Considering she felt like doing the same thing to Jack, she cleared her throat. “I’m kinda hot.” Understatement. “You have anything to drink?”

  “Sure. C’mon up to the house. I’ve been chasing this idiot around for a while and could use some tea myself.”

  Following him, so she could watch his back and ass move, as the dog bounded alongside, Chloe rebuked herself for ogling him.

  She didn’t stop, but she told herself it was wrong while she did it. If she could just forget the past they shared, she’d be fine. If she could just forget the way his face twisted in primal need and yet how he’d manage to touch her with the gentlest hand and look at her like she was something special, she’d be fine.

  Although the tea wouldn’t cool her off, maybe it would give her enough of a moment to collect herself so she could tell him about proper care of his animal and get the hell out of there before she jumped him.

  Chapter Four

  No other woman, in all of Jack’s experience, had the ability to strip a man naked, make passionate love to him, and leave him wanting for more with just their eyes the way his Chloe did. Hot, sweaty and now hard as a rock, he reminded himself, for the hundredth time since she slammed to a screeching halt and began to molest him with her gaze, that there was a plan and it didn’t include scooping her up and dragging her to bed like a Neanderthal. Even if her body language screamed, drag me to bed, now.

  Pouring two glasses of tea, he carefully kept the breakfast bar between them. Distance. He just needed distance. If he got too close, he would ignite. Which was not part of the plan.

  Taking the glass and chugging it like it contained something a bit stronger and more bracing than iced tea, Chloe drank like it was going to save her soul, eyes closed. Slamming the glass down on the bar, she kept her eyes shut for a moment.

  Breathing out slowly, she finally peeked at him, green eyes still hotter than the surface of the sun. “Fuck.”

  The one word was all the warning he got before she launched herself across the bar, caught the back of his neck and pressed that tempting mouth of hers to his.

  Plan?

  There was a plan.

  He would remember it in a second.

  As he dragged her body the rest of the way across the bar, the dog woofed in protest as one of the glasses—he wasn’t opening his eyes to see which one—crashed to the tile floor and shattered. And then her legs wrapped around his hips—what felt like about a mile of sleek, warm, sweet smelling leg—her ass on the bar cupped in one of his hands, as their mouths mated.

  One of her hands dislodged his hat and he heard it hit the floor. Any cowboy worth his salt knew the hat and boots only come off for two things. Right now, her tongue down his throat, her nails digging into his back and her body arching into his, he knew sleep wasn’t why his hat came off. There was a plan…

  She ground her heat against the seam of his jeans, skirt riding up like a denim belt, targeting the ridge of his dick and making him groan in response. Nibbling his way across her jaw, he caught her earlobe and bit down, feeling her entire body move in a wave as she shivered in response. He needed flesh and he needed it now.

  Dragging a hand up her side, she cooperated, allowing him to tug her tight little tee shirt over her head and drop it to the floor. Then his eyes were full of the most beautiful breasts he’d ever missed, offered up in something that would make any man thank God Victoria ever kept a single secret. Flushed, her creamy skin beckoned his fingers to delve into the demi cups, freeing the globes that he remembered so well.

  “Oh, my pretty titties. I’ve missed you.” Bending, he greeted each of them with his lips, suckling at the pebbled nipples that hardened i
n his mouth like the most decadent of candies. Her spine arched and she made the little sound in the back of her throat that always got his cock jumping in his pants.

  Her fingers, not still while his greedy mouth sampled her breasts, slid down the front of his jeans and cupped his already too hard dick, making him buck into her in response. “Chloe.”

  She was everything he remembered, but riper, warmer, hotter. At his husky whisper of her name, her eyes flashed open, triumphant.

  The plan.

  Suddenly, he remembered the plan and the simple fact that sex with Chloe, at this point, would only make it easier for her to lump him into the commitment-free category. Need cramped his stomach while he forced himself to catch her wrists, stopping the motion that, right then, seemed more important than breathing. “What are you doing, Chloe?”

  Licking her lips, which only made him want to duck closer and kiss her again, she shook her head instead of answering and moved to nibble at his shoulder.

  “Chloe.” Gently, he caught her shoulders. “This is a bad idea.”

  Putting distance between them, before he nixed the plan, bent her over, and took her on the kitchen island, he rubbed one hand down his chest then readjusted himself, refusing to look at her. If he looked at her, skirt hiked up and breasts bare, he was going to fuck her stupid and not give a shit about the plan. He heard her moving behind him and figured she was putting back her shirt on.

  “What exactly is wrong about sex, Jack?”

  Nothing was wrong with sex and with her, well, everything was right about it. Saying that was contrary to the plan so, instead, he said, “I’d like to have something more than a meaningless fuck. Chalk it up to old age, but I’m looking for something and I’m not sure you’re offering that particular something.”

  “You’re going all moral on me? Since when was it a bad idea for two healthy adults with a hunger for one another to have some consensual sex?”

  “I’ve always been moral, especially when it comes to you.” He spared a glance her direction, found her dressed but no less tempting, so instead focused on the glass mess.

 

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