Ace of Spades (Aces & Eights Book 3)

by Sandra Owens

  “Trust me, tiger, you have my undivided attention.” He closed the door, and as he walked around the car, he frowned, wondering why she’d said that.

  “I have one question,” he said after sliding into the driver’s seat.

  “What’s that?”

  “You told me once that you’ve had two boyfriends. Did one or both have a roving eye?” Even as he asked, his eyes roved right to her legs as she settled into the seat, causing her dress to slide up her thighs. But she hadn’t said there was a rule against checking her out, so he should be good there.

  “One did. How did you know?”

  “I’m an officer of the law, ma’am. I’m trained to pick up on things.”

  “Are you now? Then what am I thinking, Officer?”

  He tilted his head and studied her. “Well, you’re wondering if I’m going to frisk you.” She laughed, and it hit him that he liked making her laugh.

  “Yeah, you nailed it.”

  “I also have one rule for tonight.” He turned the key in the ignition. “No work talk.”

  “Definitely a good rule. Where are we going?”

  “Told you when I asked you out. Dinner and dancing.”

  “Awesome.”

  The idea of a date had been a spur-of-the-moment decision simply because he couldn’t bring himself to think of her like one of his usual hookups. She deserved better, and what would a few dates hurt?

  Taylor tried to remember the last time she’d enjoyed herself this much as Nate led her around the dance floor of South Beach’s hottest club. He was an amazing dancer for a man who didn’t date, possessing a natural rhythm that she lacked. He kept his hand firmly on her back, and once she’d relaxed and let him lead, she’d stopped worrying about her lack of dancing skills. Or maybe it was the two glasses of wine at dinner that had her feeling limber and mellow. Or it could have been the way he slid his thumb in a circular motion on her back, right above the cut of her dress, that had her practically melting in his arms, so much so that the mechanics of dancing was the last thing on her mind.

  Whatever the reason, she was newly in love with dancing, at least as long as it was with him. He pulled her against him, their bodies now touching breasts to chest, hips to hips. She rested her head on his shoulder with her face nestled into his neck. He smelled so good that she wanted to lick him.

  When he’d arrived to pick her up, she’d almost forgotten how to breathe. He wore jeans and T-shirts—almost always black—very well. He’d looked delicious in a tux at Court’s wedding. But standing there in a charcoal-gray suit and pale-gray silk shirt, his hair in a ponytail, a ruby earring in one ear, he’d looked like a cover model for a men’s magazine. She wasn’t sure there was another man on the planet who could pull that look off as well as Nate, the mix of business suit and bad-boy long hair and earring.

  By the end of the night, she hoped to have that pony-tailed hair loose and falling around his shoulders. The slow song ended, a faster one following it. Instead of letting her go, he kept her against him, only picking up the tempo of their steps. He pushed his leg between hers, his muscled thigh rubbing against both her weapon and her sex. She swallowed a moan as need shot straight to her core.

  He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. “Never considered I’d find a gun strapped to the inside of your leg sexy, tiger, but turns out that’s pretty hot.”

  “With this dress, it was the only place I could think of to put it.” They both were armed, a requirement even when off duty. His was in a holster under his arm.

  “I’ll have to take a closer look later,” he murmured.

  “Yes, please.”

  He laughed, only the second time she’d ever heard him do so, and she smiled against his neck, very pleased with herself. The man needed her in his life as more than just a friend, and she hoped he was beginning to realize that.

  “I’ve always wondered. Why do you call me ‘tiger’?”

  He stepped back, lifted their joined hands, and spun her under his arm. Then he pulled her back to him, tucking her against his body again. It happened so fast, and he’d performed the move so expertly, that she hadn’t had time to stumble like an awkward teen on her first date.

  “Because tigers are fearless. They’re passionate and elegant. That’s how I see you.”

  After that dance maneuver and his answer murmured into her ear, she was toast. If he’d told her right then to wrap her legs around his waist so he could give her what she knew they both wanted, she would have willingly obeyed.

  Nate was a tortured soul. She knew that. Although he’d shared much of his life with her, she didn’t doubt there was more that he’d left unsaid. The parts that even he couldn’t bear to revisit. Why he was the one man she craved, she didn’t know. He just was. She longed to soothe his pain and to heal his heart. It hurt that he probably wouldn’t ever allow her to be the one thing that could make him happy.

  That was okay, though. It was a given that he would likely break her heart, and she could live with that. She’d survived a life of living on the streets as a child, had kept breathing after her mother’s death, and had been like the phoenix, rising above the ashes to make a life for herself that she could be proud of.

  She was strong and Nate wouldn’t break her. But she was willing to let him try.

  “Henry’s agitated,” Nate said as he peered into the fish tank.

  “What?” They’d just arrived at her apartment. While she’d headed to the kitchen to get him a beer and her a glass of wine, Nate had walked over to see Henry.

  She rushed to the tank. Henry was a calm fish, and she’d never seen him agitated, whatever that meant. He seemed to be trying to suck in air the way someone would who couldn’t breathe.

  “What’s wrong with him?” She’d had Henry for almost four years and was attached to him, even if he did refuse to follow her finger the way he did Nate’s.

  “Looks like he’s having trouble breathing. How long do betta fish live?”

  “Three years on average, I think, but sometimes up to five years.” Was that it? Henry had grown old and had come to the end of his life? Suddenly, a shudder traveled through him, and then he turned onto his side, floating to the top.

  “Oh, Henry,” she said, swiping at the tears falling down her cheeks.

  Nate put his arm around her shoulders, tucking her against him. “I’m sorry. He was a very good fish and had a great life with you.” He stroked a finger down Henry’s little body. “Rest in peace, Henry.”

  She giggled, even as her lips trembled and the tears still fell. “That sounded like a eulogy.” How many men would comfort her at the loss of a fish instead of thinking she was silly for being sad? He was downright sweet, but she didn’t tell him that.

  “I assume you don’t want to flush him down the toilet?”

  “God, no.” Henry had given her too many years of enjoyment to do that to him. “I don’t know what to do with him, though. I’d like to think of something special.”

  “I have an idea. Change into something comfortable for a motorcycle ride.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face him, and then brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

  She stood next to Henry’s tank after Nate left, unable to help comparing Nate to her only two boyfriends. Neither one would have gotten how much losing Henry hurt, but the bad-boy biker guy had understood. After one last sad glance at Henry, she went into her bedroom and changed into jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and a pair of black boots.

  Only twenty-five minutes later, there was a knock at her door. After peering through the peephole to see that it was Nate, she let him in. His gaze skimmed over her, and if the heat in his eyes was any indication, he liked what he saw. The emotions swirling inside her were a strange combo. Her sadness over Henry, while at the same time wanting to drag the man standing at her door straight to her bed, left her standing speechless in front of him.

  He’d changed into what she was used to seeing
him in. Black leather pants, a black T-shirt, a black leather jacket that looked well used and butter soft, and heavy black boots. Just stick a fork in her and call her done.

  “Hi,” she gushed, as if she hadn’t just seen him mere minutes ago.

  He grinned. “Hi yourself.” He handed her a small wooden box. “I didn’t know if you had anything to put Henry in, so I stopped at a drugstore and picked up this.”

  There went her heart again, giving him another piece of itself. That was a dangerous thing to do with this man. She knew that, but was helpless to stop.

  “Want me to do it?” he asked when she stood over Henry’s little body, trying to decide how to pick him up.

  “No, he was my fish.” She scooped her hand under him, lifted him, and then gently laid him in the box. “I’ll miss you, Henry,” she said as she lowered the lid.

  Nate took the box, slipping it into the inner pocket of his jacket. She followed him to his bike, and once they were helmeted and seated, he reached for her hands, pulling them around his waist.

  “If you’re going to spend time riding with me,” he said, “we need to get you a leather jacket.”

  “It’s not cold.” Between her sweater and the heat from his body, she was nice and warm.

  “No, you need one for safety purposes. Protection from road rash, should the worst happen.”

  “Oh, okay.” She liked that he seemed to think she would be taking future rides with him.

  The night wasn’t turning out the way she’d imagined, and she had no idea where Nate was headed, but she was touched that he was going to all this trouble because of her fish. Although it was really more that he understood she was sad than anything to do with Henry. She leaned against his back, letting her mind go blank and just enjoying the ride.

  A few miles later, he pulled into a parking space at South Pointe Pier. “I thought we’d return Henry to the sea,” he said after stepping off the bike.

  She swung her leg over the seat, and after removing her helmet, lifted onto her toes and kissed him. “That’s perfect.” And it was. Nate slipped his hand around hers as they walked to the end of the pier, soft lights along the rail lighting their way.

  When they reached the end, he handed her the box. “Did you want to say something?”

  “He deserves a few words.” She took it from him, opening the lid. “You were a very good fish, Henry. I’m going to miss you.” She tipped the box, watching as he fell into the sea. Tears burned her eyes at seeing him disappear.

  “Bye, Henry,” Nate said quietly.

  Her heart melted a little at his gentle voice, and again, she was touched that he’d taken Henry’s demise and her sadness over it seriously. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, looking out at the ocean. It was a clear night with a half moon, and she wished she could see all the stars, but the lights of Miami made that impossible. Only the very brightest of them were visible.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “You’re welcome.”

  And it was that simple with him. No wanting to hear how great he was for what he’d done for her, no belittlement of her being silly for mourning a fish.

  “Ready to head back?”

  “Yeah, it’s getting late.” As they walked back to the bike, her hand in his, she said, “I guess this date isn’t turning out to be what you expected.”

  He chuckled. “I told you I’ve never dated before. For my first one, it’s been . . . Um, let’s say unusual. I’m really sorry about Henry. For a fish, he was a cool dude.”

  “He was that.”

  When they reached his bike, Nate handed her the helmet. “Ready?” he asked after she’d buckled the strap.

  “Yep.” She climbed on behind him, once again wrapping her arms around his waist. That was her favorite part of riding with him. Too soon, they were back at her place. He parked next to her car, and when he cut off the engine, it seemed too quiet.

  “You should wear ear protection before you lose your hearing,” she said as she hopped off and moved to face him.

  “I usually do.” He leaned forward, draping his arms over the handlebars. “I should probably go home.”

  “Why? I thought . . .” She trailed off, not sure what she should say. Had he changed his mind?

  He captured her gaze. “Are you sure it’s a good idea? You and I?”

  She pulled off the helmet. “I do, but you seem to be having second thoughts.”

  “Our friendship means a lot to me. I don’t want to screw that up.”

  “I thought we’d settled this. The minute either one of us wants to call it quits, we do, and it has nothing to do with our being friends.” She sighed. “Nate, I’m a big girl. I’m going into this with open eyes, okay? Whatever this is between us isn’t going to go away. If we don’t douse the fire, we’re both going to end up combusting.” And far back in the recesses of her mind, so deep that she only got occasional glimpses, was the idea that someday, he might fall in love with her.

  He laughed. That was the third time, and yes, she was counting. Hopefully with practice, he’d do it more often. “Come in with me.”

  “For the purpose of fire prevention, then.”

  “Well, listen to that. Nate Gentry made a joke.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he said as he swung a leg over his bike.

  “Act tough all you want, but I saw that smile you just tried to hide.” After his bike was locked up, she slipped her hand into his as they walked to her apartment. “Why don’t you laugh? Is life really that terrible?”

  “It made our old man mad if we laughed. If we were having fun, then we weren’t doing our chores.”

  “What would he do?”

  “Beat the ever-living daylights out of us.”

  He’d been conditioned not to be happy, and that was sad. Sometimes he would open up about his childhood, and each time he did, it made her want to cry for him and his brothers. But she never let that show. He’d hate it if he thought she pitied him, and if he knew she did, he’d clam up and never share again. So she kept her pity to herself.

  She handed him her door key. “You should start laughing just to piss the bastard off.”

  He grinned as he pushed her door open. “That’s why I like you, tiger. Always ready to spit in the face of all the bad guys in the world.”

  “I’d spit in his for sure.” Now that she had Nate in her house, nerves struck. When they’d returned from dinner and dancing, the sexual tension between them had been palpable, and then Henry dying had cooled them down. Should she take him straight to her bedroom? Let him take the lead? She hated being unsure of herself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “I see the wheels spinning,” Nate said. “Stop thinking.” He backed Taylor up to the wall, cradled her cheeks with his hands, and lowered his mouth to hers, nibbling his way across her lips. They were delicious lips, full, soft, and sweet tasting. He might never get his fill of her.

  On the ride back, he’d come to his senses, but now he’d lost them again. This was not a good idea. A relationship wasn’t in the cards. The rage burning deep inside of him was his alone to bear. Although he’d learned to control it, it was always there, threatening to erupt under the right—or, more accurately, wrong—circumstances. If he doubted that could happen, he only had to remind himself that he’d once almost killed his father. He would have if Court hadn’t pulled him off the bastard.

  But he wanted her, apparently too much, since it didn’t appear he was going to do the right thing and walk away. She’d said she wouldn’t let whatever happened between them ruin their friendship, and he was going to trust her on that.

  “Nate,” she murmured, putting her hands on his waist and trying to pull him closer.

  That needy rasp in her voice did him in. He scooped her up, carrying her to the bedroom. When he reached her bed, he dropped her legs, letting her slide down his body. He wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to torture with that move. Lett
ing go of her, he sat on the bed, removed his boots and socks and then his shirt, carelessly tossing everything on the floor.

  She stood in front of him, her gaze on his chest, her eyes turning a captivating smoky blue. “Have you changed your mind?” He needed to be sure this was what she wanted. “Say it,” he said when she shook her head.

  “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you.” The ghost of a smile appeared on her face. “Very much so.”

  “Then come here.”

  “Take your hair down first.”

  He pulled the band from his ponytail.

  “Now fluff it out.”

  “What’s this fixation you have with my hair?” he asked as he obeyed.

  “God, that’s as sexy as I imagined it would be.”

  “You’ve been fantasizing about my hair?”

  She nodded, licking her lips. “I have.”

  That hunger in her eyes was sure as hell turning him on. “Come here, Taylor.” He spread his legs. When she stepped between them, he pressed his knees against hers. She reached for the hem of her sweater, but he swatted her hands away. “No, I’ll undress you.”

  “Bossy man.”

  “Mouthy woman.” At hearing her giggle—something so not Taylor—he swallowed a smile. She was nervous, which was something new and interesting. His usual hookups didn’t have a nervous bone in their body. They knew the score, and were only looking for the same thing as he was. A few hours of pleasure, nothing more. He had a feeling just a few hours with Taylor wouldn’t come close to satisfying him.

  “This off first.” He pulled the hem of her sweater up, pausing at the sight of her belly ring. “Well, look what I found.” It was another thing he’d fantasized about since seeing glimpses of it on their ride to Pier 66. It was sexy as hell. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and sucked it into his mouth, giving a little tug.

  “Ahhh,” she murmured.

  He was pretty sure that little tug had sent a charge down to her core. To test his theory, he did it again, getting a soft moan this time. Yep, she liked that. He filed that information away for later.