by Silver James
“Go out with me, Jolie.”
“What?”
“Go out with me. A date. Dinner.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s an excellent idea. I’m not ashamed of CJ, Jolie. Or you.”
“What about your father?”
“Let me worry about Cyrus. Frankly, I’m more worried about yours.”
“Dad?” Confusion filtered into her expression. “Why would you worry about Dad?”
“He warned me away from you. Last summer.”
“It obviously didn’t work.”
“Nope. It sure didn’t. So? Dinner?”
Eleven
Mrs. Corcoran, the nanny, answered the door, and Cord did his best not to fidget under her intense gaze. A week had passed since the state fair fiasco, but from the way the woman glared, Jolie had told her all about it. As she continued to stare, he brushed past her and surreptitiously checked his fly to make sure it was zipped.
“Daddy!” CJ flew at him, and Cord braced for his son’s leap into his arms. His ribs only pulled a little.
“Hey, bubba!”
“Mommy’ll be down in a minute. She’s gettin’ pretty. Where you gonna take her? How come I can’t go? When will you—?”
“Whoa, CJ. One question at a time. I’m taking your mom out to dinner at a really fancy restaurant. You can’t go because this is a grown-up date and you don’t like escargot.”
“Easy car go? What’s that?”
“Escargot is the French word for snails.”
“Eww. You’re gonna eat snails?”
“Nope. Not me, but your mom likes the little suckers.”
“I do like them.” Jolie had crept up behind them, and she gave CJ a teasing pinch on his side, making the little boy giggle as he arched away from her.
“Wow. You look...beautiful.”
“Gee, thanks, Cord. Don’t sound so surprised.”
He couldn’t tell from Jolie’s wry expression if she was upset, which would be weird because she did look beautiful. Something about her tone of voice finally clicked the lightbulb on. “Oh. Oh! No, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not surprised, I’m... Wow.” He winked at CJ. “Bubba, you have the most beautiful mom in the entire world and I’m the lucky man who gets to take her out to dinner tonight.” He set the boy down and turned to Mrs. Corcoran. “We won’t be out too late.”
“CJ and I will be just fine. Go have a good time.”
* * *
The restaurant atop the Founders Tower had been known by many different names during its years of operation. Like the famous Space Needle in Seattle, the outer rim of the restaurant slowly spun around the central tower, offering up the full vista of Oklahoma City. The center held the reception area, elevators, bar, dance floor and kitchens.
As they headed to the top floor, people in the crowded elevator remained silent. Canned music filtered through a tinny speaker as everyone stared straight ahead. Jolie hated elevators, not that she was claustrophobic or anything. She leaned closer to Cord, and when he took her hand, she cut her eyes to gauge his expression. He, too, was staring straight ahead, but the dimple on his right cheek was peeking out at her.
His profile—heck, his whole face—never failed to make her heart skip a beat. All the Barron boys had been blessed, and they each bore the distinctive stamp of their DNA, as evidenced by Cassie Barron’s immediately recognizing CJ as being one of the clan. They were handsome, but Cord had something more. Laugh lines feathered around golden-brown eyes that glinted with mischief. Sculpted cheekbones, jaw and nose. The man could pose for a Greek statue.
While his features would make any girl look twice, it had always been his personality that kept Jolie’s interest. He was funny, wise and ornery—often at the same time.
He squeezed her hand and pulled it up to his mouth. After placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand, he glanced down and winked.
If she didn’t stay on guard, Cord could steamroll right over her emotions. And what’s wrong with that? She wanted to swat the annoying inner voice whispering in her ear every time the subject of Cord came up.
The elevator doors slid open and the passengers surged forward. Cord held back until the crowd cleared out, and then escorted Jolie off. The maître d’s gaze landed on them almost immediately.
“Mr. Barron. Good evening, sir. Right this way. Your table is ready.”
Those waiting to be seated parted like the Red Sea, but as the crowd closed back in behind her, Jolie heard the whispers start. While some of those murmurs were from diners upset that she and Cord were seated immediately, others were about Cord. Stories on the Barrons often appeared in the media.
The maître d’ paused on the edge of the dance floor, waiting as tables slowly passed by. A moment later, their table arrived, and he cautioned them to be careful as they stepped onto the revolving section.
Once they were seated, Cord ordered champagne before opening his menu and commenting, “They’ve completely renovated the restaurant and updated the mechanics so this part rotates again.”
“I remember coming here with Dad when I was a little girl.”
They reminisced over memories of their childhoods and how many near misses they’d had in meeting before that fateful day in high school. Jolie fought to smother her laughter as Cord inhaled his steak. She managed to get through her lobster without wearing it. The table they shared was narrow, and every time she shifted in her very comfortable chair, her foot or leg or knee grazed Cord’s. He pretended to ignore the contact just as she did—pretend being the operative word. Each touch revved up her heart rate and reminded her of the feel of his body pressed against hers.
She’d look up at odd moments to catch him watching her, something hot and sexy in his gaze, as if she was every bit as delicious as that steak as he was savoring. Jolie would get fascinated by his mouth, his lips, and she really wanted to taste them.
“Are you finished, Jolie?”
She jerked her gaze to his eyes—the ones twinkling even as his mouth curved up in that irritating grin of his. The waiter stood patiently, holding Cord’s plate.
“Oh. Yes. I am. Thank you.”
The man whisked her plate away and handed both sets of dishes off to a hovering busboy. “Will you be enjoying dessert tonight?”
Jolie knew what she’d like to have for dessert, and by the way Cord was looking at her, he was imagining her covered in chocolate and whipped cream. Just to tease him, she ordered cheesecake.
While they waited for dessert, Cord stood, took her hand and walked her onto the dance floor. A small combo was playing live music, and he took her into his arms for a slow dance. His cologne, something brisk and citrusy, caused her to inhale deeply. The music changed, and without missing a beat, Cord led her in a passable samba.
“I didn’t know you could dance.”
“Mmm. There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. Personally, I’d rather be doing a two-step at Toby Keith’s, but this’ll do for now.” His lips brushed across her forehead a moment before he stopped dancing and escorted her back to their table for dessert.
As she spooned the rich caramel cheesecake into her mouth, Jolie couldn’t decide which was more decadent—the creamy treat or the man sitting across from her watching through hooded lids as she took each bite.
She resisted scraping the plate to get the last bit before she finished the ice wine Cord had ordered with dessert. He looked as if he wanted to lick her the same way she’d been licking her spoon. Blushing, she watched him from the relative safety of a tilted glance.
“So what’s next on the menu?” she asked.
His dimple played peekaboo with the upturned corner of his mouth, and Jolie suddenly realized why heroines in romance novels swooned.
&nb
sp; “What if I said you?”
She wanted to fan her face. And other places, warmer and damper. For a brief instant, Jolie considered knocking a glass of ice water into her lap. With her luck, steam would rise and Cord would know exactly what she was thinking. She knew better than to answer. Any reply would come out a squeak.
His gaze heated and focused on her mouth. Raking her teeth across her bottom lip, she was gratified to see his irises dilate. He was as turned on as she was. But this was their first official, grown-up date. Falling into bed with him—no matter how badly she wanted to do just that—would set a dangerous precedent for the rest of their relationship. However things worked out between them.
“C’mon.” He pushed back from the table, stood and held out his hand to her.
Placing her hand in his was a leap of faith on her part. He pulled her to her feet, tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and guided her across the dance floor toward the exit. He said nothing in the elevator, nothing as they waited for the valet to return with Cord’s car. He remained silent as he handed her into the passenger seat and settled behind the wheel. Then they were off. Problem was she had no clue where they were headed and Cord still wasn’t talking.
He passed the exit that would take her home, which made sense once she thought it over. CJ was at home. And Mrs. Corcoran. She didn’t want an audience. When he headed into the heart of Bricktown, she pressed her knees together. His condo. Except he passed the street where it was located. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of the newest club in the downtown entertainment district.
A valet opened her door and she slid out, a question on her lips as Cord came around the back of the car to meet her.
“I hope you don’t mind mixing a little business with our pleasure.”
Jolie quirked a brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Live band. Chase asked me to give them a look.”
“Oh. Is he still in Vegas?”
“No. He’s in Nashville at the moment. He’s expanding, taking Barron Entertainment into the music business. Chance is tone-deaf and only listens to country music. Cash is out of town. That means I drew the short straw.”
Before she could question him further, two muscular men waved them past the waiting line and opened the front doors. A wave of sound crashed over her as she entered. She would have turned around and run if Cord’s hand hadn’t landed on the small of her back, urging her forward.
He found an empty table with tall stools near the bar. A harried waitress paused long enough for Cord to whisper in her ear. The next thing he did surprised Jolie. He handed her a set of earplugs. She stared at the orange lumps in the palm of his hand, and then glanced up. He grinned and winked as he fitted a second set into his own ears with his other hand.
After she’d stuffed the spongy plugs in, the noise level dropped to almost acceptable levels. The waitress returned with a scotch on the rocks for Cord and a frozen margarita, extra salt, for Jolie. The man never forgot a thing. She needed to remember that.
The musicians provided a driving beat and Cord offered her a dance. When they returned to the table, a group of rowdy men had taken up residence at the next table. The two facing her looked her up and down, their interest obvious.
“Will you look at that? That is one hot-damn bitchin’ woman, fellas.”
The other two turned to look. One grabbed his crotch and rubbed. “I’d sure like to nail me some of that.”
Despite the loud music and earplugs, their obnoxious comments filtered across her consciousness. Cord stiffened beside her. He hadn’t missed the lewd suggestions, either. All four men were obviously inebriated. And Cord wasn’t 100 percent recovered from his injuries, despite his assurances to the contrary. Four against one weren’t good odds on his best day. She put her hand on his arm as he stood up.
“Let it go. They’re drunk jerks.”
He ignored her and she sighed. Testosterone drained a man’s brain of all common sense. Cord kissed her cheek, but it felt too much like a pat on the head for comfort. Here, he seemed to say with the gesture. Big bad caveman will take care of his little woman.
She couldn’t hear what he said to the men, but the biggest guy in the group jumped up, knocking his stool over. In the blink of an eye, he was swinging on Cord, who ducked under the blow and came up with a fist to the guy’s gut. The other three jumped into the fray. Fists and elbows flew—the four jerks landing blows on each other as often as they managed to punch Cord. By the time the muscular bouncers arrived, Cord had gotten more than a few licks in, to good effect. Two of the men were on the floor unconscious and Cord was holding his own with the other two. The bouncers separated the men, and with the help of a couple of additional security types, all of them were bundled off to the back of the club.
Jolie followed, not quite sure what else to do. The bouncer standing watch wouldn’t let her into the secured area, so she waited in the hallway as the police arrived. She paced and fidgeted as the fire department and then EMTs appeared. Had Cord been hurt? Panicked, she pushed past the man standing guard at the door. He had his arm around her waist attempting to subdue her when Cord’s voice cut through the hubbub in the office.
“You will take your hands off her now.”
The guy dropped her as if she had girl cooties. “Cord? Are you okay? What’s going on?”
One of the cops turned to give her an appraising once-over. Cord growled, and that was when she realized he was in handcuffs. “Wha-what’s going on? You aren’t arresting him, are you? That’s not fair. They jumped him.”
“We’re taking them all in, ma’am.”
“Jolie, my keys are in my pocket, along with my phone. I’m sorry, sunshine. Call Chance and then drive yourself home.”
The police allowed her to get his keys and cell and then hustled the men—all cuffed—out the back door of the club. The club’s chief of security touched her shoulder. “Miss Davis? I’ll escort you out front and have Mr. Barron’s car brought around for you.”
As she waited for the car, she called Chance, filled him in and asked where to meet him. Ten minutes later, she was parked in front of the county jail building. Chance wouldn’t be there for at least thirty minutes. She called Mrs. Corcoran, told the woman she’d be late and settled in to wait.
A tap on the window brought her up out of an uneasy doze with a start. Sharp pain lanced through her neck and her pulse was racing. Chance and Cord stood next to the car. Chance looked amused. Cord looked as if he’d gone nine rounds with a heavyweight boxer.
She climbed out of the car, Cord’s injuries her immediate concern. “I need to take you to the ER.”
“Sunshine, I’m fine.”
Jolie glanced at Chance, who nodded. “EMTs checked him over. Nothing needs stitching, no broken bones. He just needs ibuprofen and ice.”
She blew out a breath, and while she really wanted to chew Cord a new one, she was relieved he wasn’t seriously hurt. Still, she wanted to check for herself—not that she didn’t trust the EMTs, but... “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”
Cord was dozing, head braced against the passenger window, when Jolie pulled into her driveway. She’d driven to her home instinctively. Thinking discretion was the better part of having to explain her evening, Jolie left Cord sleeping in the car while she made sure CJ and his nanny were both asleep.
Getting Cord out of the car and inside her house was another matter. He was stiff and sore, and no matter where she touched him, he winced. Without conscious thought on her part, he ended up sprawled across her king-size bed. Her bedroom was on the first floor, the guest room on the second. That was the excuse her libido kept giving her conscience.
Grabbing as many frozen gel packs as she had in her freezer, Jolie returned to her room.
“Hey.” Why did she feel so shy?
“I’m sorry.”
Cord’s apology stopped her midstep. “Sorry?”
“Yeah. Not exactly the way I wanted this date to end.” He patted the bed beside him. “Come keep me company while you slap those cold puppies on me.” He moved to scoot over to make room and winced. “Damn. I hurt everywhere.”
She positioned the cold packs on his injuries before ducking into her bathroom to rummage for pain meds and a glass of water. After he swallowed the pills, she settled on the edge of the bed.
“You always were a white knight, Cord, but trust me when I say tonight wasn’t worth you getting the crap beat out of you just because those jerks were mouthy.” She worried when he closed his eyes and blanched. His brow furrowed in pain. “I wish there was something more I could do.”
One corner of his mouth quirked, pulling at the split in his lip. “Oww.” He didn’t open his eyes as he added, “You could kiss it and make it better.”
Twelve
Cord peeked through one eye to see what Jolie’s response would be. She rolled her eyes and snorted. Not what he was hoping for, but better than a slap.
“I don’t think there’s one spot on your entire body that isn’t beat-up. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He opened both eyes and studied her expression. “Sunshine, there’s no way you could hurt me.” Not physically anyway. She’d already pretty much laid his heart bare, but the more time he spent with her, and with CJ, the quicker that pain receded from memory.
With a sassy smirk, she dropped a kiss just above his swollen eye. “Does this hurt?”
“A little. Maybe kiss me here?” He pointed to the corner of his mouth. She leaned in and carefully placed a kiss there. Fighting the urge to turn his head and take her kiss full on the mouth, he waited until she straightened. Next, he pointed to a spot on the side of his throat. “Doesn’t hurt here.”