by Lora Leigh
“And how exactly will you deal with it?” His lips thinned. “You wouldn’t consider getting rid of my baby, would you, Janey?”
Shock raced headlong through her. She stared back at him for a moment in disbelief. It took critical seconds for the accusation to fire inside her brain and disbelief to burn away beneath anger.
Cold, brittle mockery curled at her lips. “Your opinion of me sucks, Alex.” She pushed back from the table, abandoning her sweet breakfast as anger curled through her. “No. For your information, I’d never consider harming our child.”
The accusation hurt. It sliced through her soul with a ragged edge and left her bleeding, aching in pain. She had forgotten; she had let herself forget to hold back with Alex. She had slipped up last night. Realizing she was in love with a man softened a woman. Made her weak.
“Good. Then I’ll talk to Natches tonight. We can get married in the morning after securing the license at the courthouse.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and stared back at her coolly. None of his emotions showed; she had no idea, one way or the other, what he even thought about a child.
Janey looked at the cup of coffee, wondering for one insane moment if it had been drugged. Or if Alex had just lost his ever-lovin’ mind.
“No,” she finally said carefully. “We’re not getting married.”
This was happening too fast. Too many emotions were crowding inside her now, racing through her brain, making it impossible to make sense of everything.
For one moment, wild, impossible joy had filled her. Alex wanted to marry her? She could keep him, hold him close to her. For how long? Until he realized the cost of marrying her? A woman everyone in the county wanted to convict as a traitor? How long would it take him to hate her?
“Janey.” He came out of his seat, his finger pressing into the top of the table, so commanding, so dominating. It was equally sexy and irritating. “I won’t allow my baby to be raised without me. Period. You don’t want to test me on this.”
“Until we know whether or not there’s a child, the point is moot.” She had to force the words past her lips. “Until then …”
“Until then, I’ll be fucking the hell out of you daily,” he growled, moving around the table to jerk her into his arms. “And I think I’m addicted to the feel of your pussy bare, Janey. There won’t be any more condoms. How long do you think it will take you to get pregnant if you’re not already?”
“I think you’re crazy,” she gasped. “Listen to yourself, Alex. This won’t work. You know it won’t work.”
“Why?” He pushed her against the wall, not ungently actually, the move too damned sexy. It made her wet. Made her want to weaken, to surrender to him then and there. “Tell me why it won’t work, Janey.”
“Do you love me, Alex?”
Janey already knew the answer. She knew, but it still tore a hole in her heart to see the answer in his face.
“Don’t believe in fairy tales, sweetheart.” He sighed, touching her cheek with his fingertips. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”
How young she was? As though age had anything to do with love. Since when?
Janey jerked away from him, barely restraining the urge to throw something at him. Glaring at him instead, raging inside, she faced him, her fists clenching at her side.
“Well then, remember,” she said scathingly. She wasn’t going to bother to even try to hide the anger. Screw it. She’d been in Somerset six months, and hiding beneath that damned mask of unconcern wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Alex. “Remember how young I am, Alex,” she told him, mocking anger twisting her lips. “Because I won’t marry a man who doesn’t love me. Screw it. You and this damned town. I deserve better than a man who thinks loving a woman is a fairy tale or a town that thinks I’m such a tramp I’d sleep with that disgusting excuse for a father that I had. You know what? You can all go to hell.”
His arms went over his chest as he stared back at her silently, coolly. She recognized that posture. Did he really think that flashing those impressive biceps of his was going to change her mind?
From the corner of her eyes she caught a glimpse of that bite on his neck, and the shiver that rushed through her, barely hidden, almost weakened her knees. She had one on her neck as well. Her shoulder, across the tops of her breasts. Her stomach.
Her breathing became shallow. Okay. They’d snacked on each other like ravening beasts the night before and broken a rubber. She could deal. That didn’t mean she was going to marry a man who didn’t love her.
“You know it’s not going to be that simple.” He finally spoke, and when he did she wished he had just kept his damned mouth shut. His tone was implacable, his expression determined.
“Yes, it is going to be that simple,” she informed him. “Starting today, Alex, my life is going to simplified exponentially. Number one”—she held up one finger—“I’m no longer pretending to be some damned robot that doesn’t mind the little strikes and barbs that come my way. Number two”—she held up the second finger—“I’m not going let you or anyone else dictate to me how I walk, talk, dress, or act. And number three”—before she knew it, she had her finger buried in his chest and her voice had risen—“I will not marry any man who doesn’t love me.” The finger came back to her, to her chest, and determination struck a hard, fierce blow there. “I’m not unworthy of love, no matter my age or who the hell my biological parents are. So stuff that along with your arrogance and go straight to hell.”
She turned on her heel and stomped to her bedroom. She had work to do. She’d wasted too much time in the past months letting people, people she didn’t know and who didn’t matter to her damned life, affect her. She loved Somerset, but she could leave. She could go anywhere she wanted to go now, and there was nothing and no one to stop her.
Except herself.
She slammed the door shut, locked it, then leaned against it and slowly placed her hands over her stomach as her eyes closed.
She could be pregnant. That changed her plans. Until she knew for certain, Alex was right—she couldn’t leave. But if she was pregnant, there was no way she could stay either. She wouldn’t let her child be subjected to the prejudice and cruelty this county was heaping on her. Especially Alex’s baby.
Alex was considered one of Somerset’s favorite sons. A Special Forces soldier who had survived untold wars. He returned home wounded, healed, and went out to fight again. He was a hometown hero, sleeping with a traitor’s daughter.
Funny, how those same people saw Natches as a hero as well. Well, not funny perhaps. They had stood aside all those years that they knew Natches was getting the hell beat out of him at home. When Dayle had disowned him, many had turned their backs on him as well, until Dayle’s arrest. Now he was a hometown hero, too, and they’d found someone new to punish.
She pushed her fingers through her hair and fought back the anger rushing through her. Anger wasn’t going to help her. Pride, determination—screw all of them.
She stalked to the closet, drew out the clothes she’d already chosen to wear today or this evening. The restaurant opened its doors at four, but the employees arrived hours before that. She needed to be downstairs, overseeing everything within the hour.
She usually enjoyed her coffee and rolls first. But no, this morning Alex just had to drop his little bombshell before she could even get that first jolt of caffeine into her system.
She had no doubt it was deliberate.
Her hands were still shaking with anger as she rolled sheer black stockings up her legs and attached the lacy elastic band to the straps of the matching garter belt. Black panties came next, the thong eliminating any hint of panty line beneath the black mid-thigh-length silk skirt.
From her dresser she pulled free one of her favorite bras. One she had rarely worn outside the house. The demi bra gave her breasts a little added volume and, when paired with the violet short-sleeved silk-lined knit sweater she wore, made her feel sexier, more in contr
ol.
She buttoned the tiny violet buttons that ran up the sweater, buttoning it far enough that only a hint of cleavage was left showing, and Alex’s bite marks were well covered.
There was no way in hell to hide the one on her neck completely. She applied her makeup then, following Rogue’s laughing advice, applied the heavy cover base to the mark before using a touch of foundation to blend it in against her skin. It was still there, but it wasn’t glaring.
Hell, if she couldn’t hide it, she may as well own it at this point, she told herself. But as she stared into the mirror and brushed her hair to curl around her neck, she couldn’t find it in herself to be ashamed of it. Simply wary. Alex didn’t want others to know where he was sleeping at night, and she didn’t want to harm the reputation she knew he had in the county.
Thankfully, the cut and style of her hair helped to hide the mark. She knew it was there, though, and she had the memory of how it had been placed there. The mark on Alex’s neck couldn’t be hidden without a ton of makeup, she thought, as she applied her lipstick and stared at her own kiss-swollen lips.
What the hell had she been thinking when she’d done that?
Oh, she knew what she was thinking. Ownership. If only for a few days, however long it took for the mark to recede, everyone would know he had been claimed. It didn’t make a whit of difference, because no one would know who the hell had claimed him. But she knew. She knew, and each time she thought of it her stomach clenched at the memory.
Finishing up, she slid her feet into three-inch black heels, made certain her hair was still curled over the side of her neck, then left the bedroom.
Alex was still there.
He rose slowly from the kitchen table, where he was working on the laptop, and stared at her, his expression granite hard now, his eyes flat, distant.
Poor little Alex, the stupid little girl he was having to watch over wasn’t obeying him near as well as he would like. She almost snorted at the thought.
“I have twenty minutes to get downstairs,” she told him, moving to the fresh pot of coffee just finishing in the maker. “Can I drink this cup of coffee without being harassed?”
He closed the laptop slowly as she turned back with a full cup and lifted it to her lips. His expression was nerve-racking. She had never seen him look like that.
Pissed, obviously, she thought. That was too bad, because now she was pissed.
“It’s harassment to ask for one logical reason why you won’t marry me?” His hands were placed carefully on the table. Broad, calloused, strong male hands. Yeah, she loved those hands, too.
“I told you why. It was a completely logical reason.” She’d lived without love for most of her life. She wanted love. She needed it.
“I care for you, Janey.” He sighed. “You’d never have to worry about me cheating on you or hurting you.”
He’d already hurt her, more times than she could count. The very fact that he went to such lengths to keep anyone from knowing he was staying with her had the power to rip at her heart if she let herself think about it too often. And she thought about it often.
She loved him. As she stared back at him, she realized, in some ways, she had loved Alex for years. Every time Dayle had allowed her to come home, she had looked for him, asked about him. She had been fascinated with him. That fascination hadn’t changed.
She lifted her coffee to her lips and sipped, hoping the caffeine would clear her head. Despite the years she had spent keeping herself alone, isolated, giving Dayle no one he could use to strike out at her, Janey had managed to retain a few dreams. And one of those dreams was love.
“I deserve more than just a man who cares for me,” she finally told him. “You can care for a pet. I want to be more than that to someone, Alex. I need more than that.”
He wiped his hand over his face and exhaled roughly. “Janey, sometimes you’re so damned mature you frighten me, then times like this you make me feel like a fucking cradle robber.” He rose from his seat, frustration lining his face now as she watched him carefully. “Sweetheart, listen to me, what you’re looking for doesn’t exist, and you’re only going to get your heart broken looking for it.” His face hardened then. “And if you’re carrying my child, then that baby will suffer the effects of however you hurt yourself. Is that what you want?”
“We’ll discuss that if it happens.” Her voice was a hell of a lot calmer than she was.
“It will happen.” His arms bracketed her, his hands slapping against the counter beside her. “Trust me, sweetheart, if it didn’t happen last night, then it will tonight or the night after. Because fucking you without latex is too damned good to give up.”
“I hope you’ve had blood tests lately,” she stated calmly.
Janey was anything but calm. She could feel her nipples beading, her pussy heating. Hell, she could feel her womb shaking in anticipation at the sight of the lust flickering in his gaze and his tight, forbidding expression. If she looked, lowered her gaze to his jeans, she knew what she would see. If she gave him the slightest go-ahead, he’d be buried inside her.
So thick, so hard. He would push between her thighs, stretch her, burn her with pleasure.
“Look at your face,” he said, his voice rougher now. “I can see the need in your eyes, baby. You want me, again. Pumping inside you, filling you with my cum. It was hot, wasn’t it, Janey? So hot it’s addictive.”
Oh yes, she did want him. The want was like a fever inside her.
“It was hot,” she whispered back, moving to set yet another unfinished cup of coffee on the counter.
“You want me, Janey.”
She turned her back to him, gripping the counter with desperate fingers as she closed her eyes and fought the need. No, she didn’t want him; she loved him. She loved him with a strength she hadn’t believed in herself. That was, she’d loved him until this morning. Until he had offered her marriage, without the love.
“Want isn’t enough.” She shook her head, feeling him behind her, feeling his breath at her neck.
“Do you love me, Janey?”
She blinked against the tears that would have fallen. She wasn’t going to cry for him.
Turning back to him, she lifted her gaze to his, forcing the emotion back, forcing the pain back. It didn’t matter what she felt, she told herself. It never had. All the wanting in the world wouldn’t change that. “You don’t believe in love, Alex. So it doesn’t matter one way or the other, does it?”
THIRTEEN
Mackay’s Café was packed. With the addition of new chefs, a decent kitchen staff, and serious managing, the restaurant was attaining a reputation not just for the fact that it was run by the traitor’s daughter, but for its food, its service, and the fact that Janey allowed herself to be on display.
She had watched Dayle Mackay’s haphazard management of the restaurant for years. It was no more than a front then, a way to launder the money the militia filtered through its ranks. Now it was kicking some serious ass.
At eight that evening they had a full house, tables filled no sooner than they were emptied and cleaned, and a small waiting list on the off chance of a cancellation.
Janey was kept on her feet, moving through the restaurant, seating customers, fielding questions and comments. And compliments.
She was seating a table of six when she knew the night was going to go to hell.
It began with Natches and Alex walking up to the hostess station and standing, rather patiently. Natches wasn’t always patient. He was wearing his motorcycle chaps and a leather jacket, his hair was windblown, his face roughened from the cold. Alex was dressed in jeans and the long-sleeved gray striped shirt he had worn that morning, boots, and a hip-length leather jacket that absolutely did not do a damned thing to hide from Natches that hickey on his neck.
“I hope you enjoy your meal.” She smiled to the occupants of the table as they sat down and accepted their menus. “Your server will be right with you.”
She turned,
caught the eye of the waitress for that section, and motioned her over to the table before moving to the reception area.
Natches had that look in his eyes that warned everyone around him not to push him. Alex’s expression was pretty much as it had been when she left him that morning. Stony. Cool. He wasn’t pleased with her and that was just too bad.
“I don’t have any tables free, Natches,” she told her brother. “You and Alex will have to eat in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“I own the place. Surely I can have a table,” he drawled, drawing the attention of everyone close enough to hear them.
Hoyt spoke up behind her. “Ms. Mackay, we have a cancellation on table fourteen in twenty-five minutes.”
“And we have a waiting list.” She turned to her manager with a bright smile. “Perhaps you should call the Daltons and let them know we have a table if they can be here in time.”
Hoyt stared back at her helplessly before glancing to Natches and Alex. The younger man hero-worshipped both Natches and Alex. Turning them down would break his heart.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. They can wait for the table in the office.” She turned back to Natches. “You can wait in the office.”
“You can come with us.”
Before she could avoid him, he had hold of her arm and was pulling her through the restaurant to the short hall and the large office past the restrooms.
Oh, this so wasn’t good. Natches hadn’t dragged her around like a puppy since she was five years old.
Unlocking the office door, he pushed her inside before following. At least he released her before moving into the well-appointed room with a disgusted breath.
“Bastard liked his comfort, didn’t he?” He stared around the office at the leather seating arrangement and glass table. The desk was Janey’s addition. Scarred and comfortable, it beat the contemporary modern glass one Dayle Mackay had had before his arrest.
“And I like keeping myself in comfort.” Janey propped her hand on her hip, flicked her gaze to where Alex leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed on her, then back to Natches. “What the hell is up with this? I have work to do if you don’t mind, and dealing with you in a snit isn’t conducive to that job.”