Stella, Get Your Man

by Nancy Bartholomew

  The thundercloud of my aunt’s jealousy passed as quickly as it had arrived and she moved toward the huge animal.

  “Wait!” I said. “Let me introduce—”

  It was a wasted breath. Aunt Lucy went to Fang and Fang allowed it without hesitation.

  With gentle hands, Aunt Lucy took the dog’s injured paw in hers.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought Benito… Let me see this.”

  Nina and Spike stood frozen by their chairs, their attention riveted to the giant wolf-dog.

  “What a sweet puppy,” Nina cooed.

  Spike looked at me. “How did you find Lloyd?” she mouthed silently.

  I pointed to Fang and smiled. Spike nodded and the exact explanation was tabled for a later time.

  Aunt Lucy barked orders, sending us scurrying for her first-aid kit, healing salves and of course, the Chianti. When she’d poured a small bowl of water for the dog she turned to her audience.

  “Would you like a crowd standing around your examining table?”

  Jake grabbed the Chianti jug and motioned toward the stairs.

  “Ladies, if someone will grab the glasses, we can take this meeting upstairs.”

  Which is how we all wound up sitting in my room drinking Chianti and plotting our next course of action. After two glasses of wine the decision-making process became easier. Nina would return to the library in hopes of finding Doug Hirshfield. Spike would return to the courthouse and search for any records pertaining to the Hirshfield family. If Doug Hirshfield was not Mia’s missing brother, Nina and Spike would begin pursuing the other names Spike had garnered in her earlier search.

  Jake was going to stay with Aunt Lucy and contact some of his “government resources” about our Joey Smack problem. When the picture of Mia’s sister arrived by overnight express, I would take that to Nina so she could show it to her new pals and try to track or confirm the identity of Mia’s family that way.

  By the end of our third glass of wine, Spike’s eyes grew heavy and she leaned her head on Nina’s shoulder. Nina reached over and stroked her hair gently.

  “Baby’s tired,” she murmured. “Come on, honey. Say nite-nite to the nice people and let’s go crawl under the covers.”

  With a sleepy smile, Spike let herself be led off to bed, leaving me alone with Jake and the Chianti. The room seemed to shrink, and my double bed was suddenly too close to his. When Jake leaned forward to pour more wine in my glass, I pulled back.

  “No more for me. I’m a working girl.”

  Jake smiled. “Wouldn’t want you to drop your guard,” he said.

  I frowned, held up my glass and studied it. “On three little juice glasses of wine? I hardly think so.”

  Jake nodded. “My point exactly.”

  “All right,” I said, extending the glass. “One more.”

  He didn’t move. “You sure? I wouldn’t want you to say I got you drunk and had my way with you.”

  “Yeah, right. Four little juice glasses and I’m toast? Sorry, kid. I was raised on Uncle Benny’s Chianti.”

  Jake leaned forward and filled my glass. He flinched slightly as he moved, favoring his side.

  “Does it hurt much?”

  Jake smiled. “Nah, pain builds character.”

  “Liar. Let me see.”

  I stood up, put my glass on the nightstand between us and waited for him to pull up his shirt. When he didn’t, I reached out, took his wineglass and placed it on the table beside mine.

  “Pull up your shirt, Jake.”

  “It’s fine, Stella. Your aunt gave me one of her salves to put on the wound. I swear, it’s almost healed.”

  “Prove it. Show me.”

  Jake met my gaze and held it as he slowly stripped his T-shirt off over his head. I watched, forgetting to breathe, as his lean, muscular torso came into view; a neat, white square bandage covering the hole in his side.

  “I guess that’s fair,” he murmured.

  “What?”

  Jake chuckled. “Well, I imagine the look on my face was about the same as the one I see on yours.”

  I jumped, looking away from his body and reaching for my Chianti. I forced myself to take a long, slow, deliberate sip of wine before I turned back to him. When I did, I was back in control.

  “Look on my face?” I echoed. “I was looking at your bandage.” I put my hand on his shoulder, felt the rock-hard muscle beneath smooth skin and pushed him away, back onto the bed.

  “Let’s see how it’s doing.”

  I reached down and ripped the adhesive-taped bandage away. The amorous look on Jake’s face vanished.

  “Ouch.”

  I smiled coolly. “Pain builds character, right?”

  I made myself look at the healing injury and not at his face. It looked as if Jake’s side had almost completely healed, which was impossible because he’d only been shot two days ago.

  Our eyes met and Jake shrugged. “You know your aunt. I don’t know what she put in that stuff, but whatever it is, it works.”

  I crossed the room to the dresser, grabbed the box of gauze pads, adhesive tape and the silver tube of Aunt Lucy’s miracle salve.

  “She’s a miracle worker, all right,” I said.

  I sat on the side of the bed and redressed his wound, avoiding his gaze but feeling it on my face as I worked.

  I finished, made a move to rise, and found his hand tight on my arm.

  “Put that stuff on the nightstand,” he said. “We have unfinished business.”

  His tone left no mistake about his intentions. I struggled to pull my arm free, his grip tightened, and suddenly every inch of my body went on pleasure alert.

  “Jake, I…”

  “Put it on the nightstand.”

  When I still didn’t move, he took the bandages from my hand and dropped them to the floor beside the bed.

  “Look at me, Stella,” he whispered.

  He reached out and took my other arm, turning me toward him. I inhaled and steeled myself for what would come next. I looked at him and waited.

  “I want to make love to you, Stella,” he said. “I want to undress you slowly. I want to run my fingers and tongue over every square inch of your body. I want to tease you until you think you might lose your mind. I want to bring you to the edge of more pleasure than you’ve ever allowed yourself to feel, and then stop. I want to build you up over and over again until you beg me to take you…because…”

  “Jake, stop. No. I can’t.”

  Jake reached a hand up to stroke the side of my face, his fingers trailing gently down the side of my neck, and sliding around to cup my head firmly as he pulled me toward him.

  “Yes, you can,” he murmured.

  “No…”

  The word came out in a half whisper and stopped as his lips met mine. I was so weak. I felt my body come alive, craving his touch. I moved without thinking, taking what I wanted, exploring him, tasting him, and letting my tongue wander, losing myself in the sensations.

  Jake slid his arms on either side of my body and rolled, flipping me beneath him with a fluid movement that suddenly put me at his mercy. He kissed me again, gently, and let his tongue wander as mine had, down the side of my neck and into the sensitive pocket between my neck and collarbone.

  My body was on fire, swelling and responding to each flick of his tongue on my skin. With one hand he captured both of my wrists, pulling them above my head and holding them fast. I struggled to free them, wanting to touch him again, and found I could not move.

  “Jake, let me…”

  He rose up on his elbow, rolled slightly away from me, but never loosened his grip on my wrists. His free hand moved across the fabric of my blouse, sliding across the slinky material to encircle the tips of my nipples.

  I gasped, caught my lower lip between my teeth and felt my back arch to meet his fingers.

  He stopped then, staring into my eyes with a longing that took my breath away.

  “I want you, Stella,” he w
hispered. “But I won’t take you until you’re absolutely certain you want me, on my terms. I won’t move any further until you ask me to. I heard you today when you said you want a commitment and I respect that. I just can’t offer you one.”

  My brain took over, my heart ran away and my body screamed. Shit. Reality once again reared its ugly head. Jake could give me everything I’d ever imagined in a lover, everything but a future.

  He stared down into my face. “What do you want, Stella?”

  My brain said, “Tell him you have to go now.”

  My heart said, “But he’s the one!”

  And my body said, “Oh, come on. Quit thinking so much. What’s an orgasm between friends?”

  I heard a sigh escape my lips. I tried to reach for him, then remembered that he held my arms.

  “Let me go and I’ll show you.”

  Jake smiled and shook his head.

  “No. Tell me. Say the words.”

  I felt a well of frustration come to a boil inside myself. I didn’t want to say the words. I wanted to do something without thinking. What was wrong with this guy?

  “Come here,” I whispered. “Kiss me. Let my hands go so I can touch you.”

  Jake shook his head, not moving.

  “Nope. That’s your way. You’ll put it back on me. You’ll turn the attention away from you and on to me. So when I lose my mind to your incredible touch, you can say things got out of hand. You can say we made love, but you didn’t mean to. It’ll become a mistake.”

  He shook his head again. “Not this time, Stella. This time you ask for it. This time you tell me what you want.”

  I felt tears start, hot behind my eyes. Damn this man. Why couldn’t anything with Jake Carpenter be simple?

  “So you want a guarantee that if we make love, I won’t be hurt when you walk away?”

  Jake shook his head. “Not necessarily. I can’t control how you feel. All I can do is tell you I can’t offer you anything more right now than today. If you can handle that, fine, but otherwise, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  His grip loosened on my wrists and he pulled away, not touching me. I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to open them and find him looking at me. What had started out as a revenge fantasy in my head was becoming a disaster in which I got even, but signed a liability waiver against feeling bad afterward. The entire thing between Jake and me had started when I’d wanted to wound him for leaving me. Now, here he was basically saying, go ahead, just don’t let it hurt you. Damn. What kind of revenge sex is that?

  Furthermore, it sort of irritated me that he could maintain such control. And who was he to take care of me anyway? Who did he think I was, some sheltered little thing with a big heart and no protective shielding?

  “You know, Jake, I’m not the little girl you used to know. I can take care of myself.”

  He smiled softly. “I know you can, Stella, but I also know you run away when you’re hurt. I don’t want you to run away again.”

  My heart rose at those words, only to fall when he finished his thought.

  “We’ve got a business to think of, and your aunt to protect. I don’t want something to happen between us that could ruin the agency.”

  The revenge fantasy returned. He didn’t want to ruin his new livelihood; that was the motive behind his hesitation.

  “Oh, Jake,” I whispered. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

  I stretched out one finger and ran it lightly down the center of his chest. “Come here,” I said.

  He caught my finger and stopped me.

  “Say it, Stella. Tell me what you want.”

  I felt the words rise up in my throat and die before I could speak them. Love me, Jake. Love me and never let me go.

  He cupped my chin with his finger, raising my head to meet his gaze.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  Another woman’s voice seemed to come from my mouth. “Hold me, Jake. Just hold me.”

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “Come here.”

  He took me into his arms, pulled me close and held me tight against his chest. I closed my eyes and sank into him, every muscle in my body letting go and relaxing into the warm safety of his arms. It felt strangely like home.

  We lay there, neither of us saying a word. His breath was warm on my hair and my hand rested on his chest, feeling the strong pounding of his heart beneath it. I felt myself letting go, drifting contentedly, and was surprised when he moved.

  “Don’t go anywhere.”

  Jake rolled to the other side of the bed, got up and turned off the light. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw him begin to undress. He tossed his jeans onto my vacant bed, and then slid his boxers down over his thighs.

  I held my breath, drinking in the silhouette of his body against the pale light that shone through the bedroom window. I studied him, memorizing the way muscle blended into muscle, drinking in and savoring each new revelation as he began to walk slowly toward the bed.

  “Give me your hand,” he said.

  He pulled me up to stand in front of him, stroked the hair back from my face gently and began undressing me. My shirt went first, then my jeans, button by button. He knelt to pull them off and I placed a hand on his shoulder for balance. His hands ran the length of my legs, knee to thigh, and stopped at the slender lines of my thong panties. He hooked a finger under each thin fabric strap and slowly pulled them down and off.

  “Oh, Stella,” he breathed. “You are beautiful.”

  He rocked back, studying my body in the moonlight for a long moment before he stood and pulled me to him. I felt him harden against me and move, pulling me down onto his bed.

  He pulled back the blanket and left me lying there before him; exposed, shivering with anticipation more than cold.

  “Jake, please…”

  He rolled close to me, up on one elbow, the index finger of his free hand poised above my body, hovering between my chest and my stomach.

  “Please what, Stella? Tell me what you want.”

  “Make love to me, Jake. Now.”

  A soft chuckle escaped into the darkened bedroom. “No, baby, you’re not ready. First things first. What do you want first? Take it one minute at a time.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Jake leaned forward, rolled between my legs and lowered his head to brush my lips with his own. The kiss was gentle at first, then searing as the heat between us built to a crescendo. His tongue left trails of fire across my skin as it wandered slowly down my neck.

  “Please, Jake, touch me,” I whispered.

  “Where?”

  I moaned. “Everywhere.”

  I reached for him, running my hand across his flat stomach, determined to turn the tables on him. My hand moved, following the swirls of hair that thickened as I worked my way lower.

  He stopped me, grabbing my wrist in his iron grip and raising my fingers to his mouth. He kissed each fingertip, gently sucking them, one by one, into his mouth.

  “That’s enough for now,” he said softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pulled me to him, wrapped me against his body and ran his hand down my back.

  “The old Stella just came out, looking for a way to control the process. It’s your way of telling me to stop. You can’t let go with me, at least, not yet.”

  “That’s not true!” I protested. “I just wanted to reciprocate.”

  “And I told you that wasn’t an option yet. You hide behind your control. When we make love, nobody will be hiding behind anything.”

  “You misread me,” I said.

  “Are you comfortable?” he murmured.

  Comfortable? I was in agony.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Good.” He stroked my hair. I struggled to free my arms, but he stopped me. “Shh. Go to sleep, baby.”

  “What? But…”

  Jake’s whisper, hot against my ear. “You said hold me. I’m holding you.”

  “But that was befor
e you…”

  His hand ran the length of my back sending an electric current of desire through my body.

  “I know. But I choose to believe the woman who asked to be held. I am holding you, your skin against mine, until you feel safe. Until it’s time to move on to the next level.”

  “Jake, really, I’m…”

  He chuckled and I felt every inch of him against my skin. I knew he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

  “Right side or left side?” he whispered.

  “For what?”

  “Do you sleep on your right side or your left?”

  I had to think before I could answer. “Left.”

  “Turn over.”

  I could not believe this man.

  “What?”

  “You heard me, turn over.”

  Jake rolled me away from him, spooned me against his body and slipped his arm across my belly, his hand gently cupping my breast.

  “Good night, Stella,” he whispered.

  “Please, Jake…”

  He nuzzled my neck. “Shh.”

  I closed my eyes, willing the burning in my body to subside. Minutes later I heard his soft, even breathing and knew he’d managed somehow to drift off to sleep. I lay in the darkness wondering what it would feel like to sleep with Jake Carpenter every night. What would it be like to fall in love with a man who cared enough to read my heart before he took my body?

  Chapter 11

  When I opened my eyes, Jake had vanished. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window and I was naked. I closed my eyes as sleep half tugged me back into a vague midnight memory.

  We had been sleeping. I had moved, rolling from my left side onto my right, and was lying with my head on his chest. His strong arm held me in place, but in my dreams he was touching me, his fingers exploring my body, slipping between my legs and sliding deep inside me. I moved, fitting my body to the rhythm of his hand, moaning as I drew closer and closer to the edge of climax.

  I felt him, hard against my inner thigh, and reached out to feel the thick, solid length of his erection. The skin was soft against the steel bulk of him and I sighed. He moved in my hand and I tightened my grip, feeling the friction of his mounting desire match my body’s swollen, wet response.