Had she been less certain that she wouldn’t need the distance, she would have argued with him—the couch was decent-sized, but would hardly be comfortable for a man as tall as he was—but self-preservation won out. She didn’t need to be anywhere near his body and a bottle of massage oil. Her mind might actually crack and she’d ask him to let her rub him down and then slip and slide all over him.
“All right. Thanks,” she added awkwardly, shoving a hand through her hair.
She felt his gaze skim over her face, lurk around her mouth. “Have you got everything you need out of the car?”
Lips still tingling from his lengthy perusal, she glanced at her bags next to the door. “I do.”
He nodded once. “Then I’ll see you in the morning. “
All righty then. Disappointment knifed through her. She should be relieved at the dismissal, Noelle thought. Should be happy that he didn’t want her to hang around down here with him, that at least one of them appeared to have a little self-control. And he was definitely exercising it, which was admittedly rather gratifying. That raw look of desire she’d witnessed only hours ago combined with the hungry way he’d been staring at her mouth told her better than anything that she wasn’t alone on this hellish island of lust.
He wanted her, too.
And they were here. In the Chalet of Love. Alone. With sex toys and chocolate and champagne.
She inwardly whimpered. She was going to need more than good intentions and self-control, Noelle thought. She was going to need a frontal lobotomy and a straitjacket.
8
“WHAT’S WRONG?” his brother asked by way of greeting. “Has anything happened?”
Judd dropped heavily into one of the rocking chairs positioned on the front porch, ignoring the near freezing temperatures and watched his breath frost the air. “Depends on your definition of wrong,” he said, his voice cracking with irritation.
Jeb paused, evidently considering both Judd’s tone and his own response. “Why don’t you give me your definition of wrong, little brother, and we’ll go from there. I’m told the previous safe house went up in flames less than thirty minutes after you left.”
“That’s right. No doubt they got a hit on her GPS via her phone and picked up on it when she called Payne to ask to have me replaced.” He laughed grimly. “I’m getting off to a swimming start, here,” he said. “Just freaking fantastic.”
“I heard about that,” Jeb remarked, a smile in his voice. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Payne’s of the impression that Ms. Montgomery is headstrong and accustomed to doing things her own way.”
He smiled, rubbed his eyes as he relaxed further into the chair. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. I’d add sarcastic, stubborn, fiendishly clever and irritating as hell to the description.” Naturally, he found all of those things wildly attractive. Who would have thought—have ever dreamed—that he’d be turned on by the sharp edge of her tongue, the mulish lift of her adorable chin, the wicked intelligence in those pale green eyes. Intelligence that, for the bulk of their brief acquaintance, had been spent trying to make him feel stupid.
Jeb hummed under his breath. “She’s pretty, too, isn’t she?”
Pretty? Judd blew out a breath, considered the ordinary adjective. It fit, certainly, but fell impossibly short of a true representation of who she was, how she looked. She wasn’t just merely pretty—she was extraordinary. She was energy and light personified. Vitality in motion. Even when she was sitting perfectly still, there was a hum of...power, for lack of a better description, around her. His lips twisted. Almost radioactive.
He could feel it. Was inexplicably drawn to it.
He cleared his throat. “She’s quite attractive. Long red hair, green eyes.” Nice ass, beautiful breasts, a body a man could sink into without fear of getting jabbed by a protruding bone. He wanted to fall into her right now, dive dick first straight into her warm welcoming heat and stay there until he screamed hallelujah or his balls burst, whichever came first...so long as he did.
“And you want her,” Jeb said, because there was no way he wouldn’t know. If his brother could pick up on the smallest bit of frustration, then something as potent as the most singularly incredible sexual attraction he’d ever experienced was certainly fair game. After all, he’d known the minute Jeb met Sophie that his brother desperately wanted her.
Hell, he’d been awakened from a dead sleep with a hard-on. And he’d been alone at the time. That had never happened. And he’d never mentioned it to Jeb because it was just too damned...bizarre.
Because their twin connection had always been so strong, Judd was used to some pretty odd things. Like the time he’d had a sudden craving for a strawberry milkshake and Jeb had walked in with one in his hand, the straw stuck in his mouth. Or when Jeb had lost his retainer—had tossed it away with the remains of his school lunch for the second time—and he’d gotten so panicked while in his health class that he’d nearly hyperventilated during the Sex Ed video. Talk about mortifying. But the hard-on, for absolutely no reason, one obviously brought about by his twin’s feelings?
That was new.
Had the same thing happened to Jeb? Judd wondered now. Had his reaction to Noelle been so substantial that Jeb had felt it as well? If so...then good enough for him, Judd thought, grinning. Better the both of them wonder instead of just him.
“She’s hot,” Judd finally admitted. “And infuriating and unpredictable.”
His brother laughed. “In other words, she’s not one of those biddable star struck yes-girls you usually end up taking to bed.”
Judd scowled at the phone. “‘Agreeable’ is the word I think you’re looking for.”
“Mindless,” Jeb countered, laughing softly. “Hell, that last girl I remember you hooking up with thought that those ‘Slow—Children Ahead’ signs in residential subdivisions referred to the children,” he said incredulously, his voice cracking with humor. “Not the speed limit.”
Yes, well, that was rather unfortunate, he’d admit. Cherry certainly hadn’t been the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’d made up for her dullness in other areas, if he remembered correctly.
And he usually did.
At any rate, that was neither here nor there. “Yeah, well, your taste hasn’t always been as discerning as it is now,” he told him. “Sophie is miles above par. Remember Sasha? The medium you brought to Thanksgiving dinner who told our grandmother that her aura was black?”
Jed guffawed. “That was priceless,” he wheezed. “Gran was livid.”
Yes, she had been. She’d imperiously ejected Sasha from the rest of the meal, then threatened to disinherit anyone else who so much as chuckled because they’d all been rolling in their seats, their parents included. Judd clearly remembered his mother leaning over and saying, “No doubt it matches her soul.”
That was the trouble with some people and money—it made them bitter and crazy. Thank God, it hadn’t affected their parents that way, Judd thought. Despite their undeniably impressive portfolios—and both he and Jeb had them as well—his parents had always lived well below their means and looked for happiness in other places. His grandmother, unfortunately, wielded her wealth like a club, her railroad pedigree like a better-than-you badge.
Money, on its own, could do nothing. It’s how that money was spent that revealed its true power.
Noelle Montgomery, based on what he’d read of her activities and various donations, understood that better than a lot of people.
Was that the appeal? Beyond the beautiful body and impressively keen wit? Was it knowing that she was generous and willing to work hard? To go into ravaged areas and shift debris? Bandage cuts? Serve food? Offer a little of herself with every bit of human kindness?
“Is it just the sexual attraction or is there more there?” Jeb suddenly asked, seemingly tuning in to his thoughts once again. “Because if it’s just sex, then you’d be better off looking for a little recreational knob polishing once this assignment is over. If i
t’s more than that...” He trailed off leadingly. “Then that’s another thing altogether.”
And he’d know, Judd thought, particularly considering recent circumstances. Was it more than good old-fashioned lust? he wondered. He was intrigued, certainly. More so than he’d ever been about anyone. And she definitely had a way of pulling a reaction out of him. No indifference or any approximation thereof. He either wanted her with every fiber of his being, enjoyed their conversation more than he had any other...or wanted to pick her up and shake her.
No middle ground. No happy medium.
It was full-throttle, all or nothing.
And it was terrifying. And, more significantly, he’d just met her. Good grief...
A few more days spent in her company and he’d undoubtedly need to be put away in a padded room devoid of sharp objects. Especially if he was going to have to keep his hands off of her. Which reminded him...
“Who booked this cabin?” he asked, darting a look through the window, glaring at the “Welcome, Honeymooners” sign, specifically. That thing was coming down tonight, Judd thought. Post haste. He’d be damned before he’d sleep under the bloody thing.
Jeb hesitated, mulling it over. “I imagine that would have fallen to Juan-Carlos. Why? Is it unsuitable?”
“More like awkward,” he told him, his gaze moving to the tall white feather in the basket on the counter. He imagined sliding it down the fluted hollow of Noelle’s naked spine, slipping it over the inside of her thighs. His stomach and jaw simultaneously clenched, and he struggled to banish the vision, to hold on to any semblance of control. “Evidently the owners of the cabin are laboring under the incorrect assumption that Noelle and I are honeymooning here. They hung a big-ass banner off the balcony and left us a bottle of champagne and a lover’s basket, complete with whipped cream and massage oil.”
“You’re kidding,” Jeb said, his voice breaking with barely suppressed humor. “That’s, uh...interesting,” he finally finished.
“It’s hell,” Judd growled. “There’s a trail of rose petals leading to the friggin’ bedroom,” he said, trying not to shout. “Notice I said the bedroom. As in one. I’m going to be kipping on a glorified love seat while Sleeping Beauty rests comfortably up in her tower.”
“I’m sure that different accommodations can be arranged,” Jeb told him. “I’ll talk to Payne in the morning.”
“No, don’t,” Judd said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll make do. I’ve slept in worse conditions and I don’t want to be any more trouble than I’ve already been.”
“You haven’t been any trouble. Believe me, they’re all used to this. A woman can throw a wrench into an assignment faster than anything else. Try not to worry about it and just do your job. Keep her safe.”
“I have every intention of it,” he told his brother, resolved more than ever to do just that.
The mere idea that there was someone out there who had fired a bullet at her twice and tried to burn her to death—twice—made him want to roar with rage and break things.
He’d been concerned before he’d actually met her—recognized the injustice and danger of it. But now? Now that he’d met her, looked into those lovely green eyes and saw the fear and anger and frustration roiling in them? The hint of vulnerability in the stubborn lift of her chin? The brave way she continued to push on and do the right thing for no other reason than it was just that—the right thing...
Now he didn’t just want to keep her safe—he wanted to rip the offender limb from limb, he wanted to tear off every crooked arm of Tubby Winchester’s crooked business. He wanted to make the man pay, make him hurt. And the time would come, Judd was sure. He would see to it. In the interim, it was his job to keep her safe and out of harm’s way.
The question was...who was going to protect him? Most especially from himself? Because something told him that, despite multiple tours of duty on foreign ground, he was in a more dangerous position right now—at this very moment—than he’d ever been in his life.
And he’d never been more tempted to sleep with the enemy.
But he couldn’t. He could not, Judd repeated to himself. Because if he was this spun up and confused about her now—if she could tie him up in knots in a mere evening—then something told him that taking her to bed, finding the release and relief he most desperately wanted between her thighs, would result in a permanent, irrevocable snarl, one he grimly suspected he’d never be able to untangle.
And she’d be right in the heart of it.
* * *
“IF THAT bitch makes it to the courthouse alive, you’re going to wish you were never born.”
“I tried,” Curtis snapped, drawing a concerned look from Lisa, his secretary. He got up, hurried around the desk and closed the door. With a paranoid glance over his shoulder, he retreated to the other side of the room and lowered his voice. His heart clamored in his chest, aching from the excess rush of adrenaline.
“It doesn’t matter that you tried, Curtis. It only matters that you failed. There’s a penalty for failure. Do you like pain, Curtis? Does pain turn you on?”
Oh, Jesus... “They’d left, damn you! They weren’t there! If I’d had the information sooner I might have—”
The mystery caller tsked chillingly. “You aren’t suggesting this is my fault, are you, Curtis? Because that would be a mistake. You dawdled, Curtis. You wasted ninety seconds after the call in your office, another hundred and eighty talking to those delicious little girls of yours—”
Curtis gasped in horror, certain he was going to be sick. Nausea clawed up the back of his throat.
“—then another thirty making nice with the wife. She could stand to lose a few pounds, but she’s got great tits,” the man on the line added silkily. “More than a mouthful. We’ve been making bets on those tits. I say her nipples are more brown than pink, but Patrick—the one who likes the knives, I think I’ve mentioned him before—he’s convinced that they’re the same color as her lips, a soft dusky rose. Who’s right, Curtis? Me or Patrick? Never mind,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”
He was shaking so hard he nearly dropped the phone. “You stay the hell away from my family, or I swear to God, I’ll—”
“You’ll what, Curtis? Kill me?” He laughed. “Because you’ve proven you’re so good at that.”
“I’ll—”
“—go to the police?” he finished. “Go ahead,” he taunted. “I dare you. You’ll be dead before you get out of the parking lot and I’ll personally see to it that your family is punished for your stupid, reckless behavior,” he told him, his voice a low growl of anger. “The point is, Curtis, that you wasted five minutes in the house—five essential minutes—then another four when you went through the drive-thru to get your caramel macchiato at Peg’s.”
Curtis felt his rolling stomach drop to his knees and he collapsed once more into his chair. They were watching him? he thought wildly. Knew that he’d finished his cigarette, talked to his girls, chatted with his wife? Even went to get coffee? Oh, God... What had he gotten himself into? What had he done? How could he have been so unforgivably stupid?
This was Tubby Winchester, he reminded himself. Of course, they were watching him. Of course, they were.
“So here’s the thing, Curtis,” he went on in that same unnerving tone of voice. “We’re beginning to wonder if your heart is really into taking care of this for us. We’re beginning to wonder if you’re taking this situation as seriously as you should.”
He tried to swallow, sweat leaking from every pore. “I am,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t screw up again,” he promised. “I-I’ll take care of it.”
He winced over the line. “That’s what you said last time, so you can see how we’d find it difficult to believe you, right, Curtis? Do you understand our dilemma?”
“I understand,” he said. “I do, really.”
“All the same, we’ve decided an insurance policy is in order. Pick one of your girls, Curtis�
��doesn’t matter which one—and hand her over. We’ll give her back when the job is done.”
“What? No! I—” He blanched, his vision blackening around the edges.
“Head between your knees, Curtis,” he said, laughing softly as though he found this all vastly entertaining. “We wouldn’t want you to pass out.”
Alarmed, he glanced up, looked out the glass door of his office and scanned the area for the person on the other end of the line. Several people were chatting on cell phones, at the desk phones, all of them looking perfectly ordinary. Looking as though they hadn’t just asked him to hand over one of his children or his wife.
“I won’t do it,” he said, anger bursting through him. “I said I’d take care of Noelle and I will. But I will not willingly give you a member of my family. I’d kill myself first.”
“Tsk, tsk. Belated nobility doesn’t become you, Curtis. But have it your way. I’ll let Patrick pick one.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
The line went dead.
He went numb with horror. Deadened with fear.
Two seconds later his phone rang again and he answered it without checking the display first. “Don’t you dare touch my family, you hear me!” he shouted frantically. “Stay the hell away from—”
“Curtis?” his wife interrupted tentatively.
He blinked, straightened. “Carla? Is that you, honey?” His eyes stung, his breath came in heaving gasps.
“Yes,” she said, seemingly cautious with concern. “Who did you think it was? What did you mean, don’t touch your family?”
He cleared his throat. Swallowed around the lump lodged there. “A crank call,” he said dismissively. “Just some idiot trying to rattle my cage. Probably someone I didn’t approve for a loan. You know how these people can be,” he added. What was one more lie?
“Yes, I do, but if someone is calling your cell phone and threatening your family, then you need to report it, Curtis. You need to file a complaint. Get it on record.”
His First Noelle Page 8