"Then why did you pick him?" she asked, exasperated.
"Because I, too, would refuse to enter a Poke Ball."
"What does that even mean? You know what? Never mind. Describe yourself in three non-nerd words."
"Done. With. Interview." He rolled over, pinning her to the mattress. Her legs spread automatically, making a cradle for him. A cradle he took full advantage of, his erection prodding at her entrance. "Now, tell me I'm yours. Otherwise I'm tying you to the bed. You'll be my prisoner."
Teasing him was fun, but there was a hard, desperate gleam in his eyes, a bit tortured and a lot anguished. Reassuring him would be a lot more fun. She wound her arms around his neck, molding her body around his. "Lucky, lucky man. I'm yours. Now. Whatever are you going to do with me?"
A slow, wicked smile bloomed. "I'm going to cherish every minute I have with you," he said and slid inside her.
*
WEST KEPT JESSIE KAY in bed for the rest of the day and night. He allowed her to leave the safety of his arms only twice. The first time because Daniel and his Army buddies arrived to take care of security, the second to make a sandwich, and only because they were both dying of hunger.
If they weren't making love, they were working on her new website. He'd gotten to delve deeper into her past for the bio page and what he'd learned had only made him like her more.
Her grandmother on her father's side had taught her to sew. Then she'd taught her mom how to sew. The two had picked out patterns together and had often gone on "fabric dates."
When she made a dress, she said, she didn't think about the past, or her mistakes, just the smile Brook Lynn would bestow upon her when she finished. And that, West thought, was what set this job apart from all her others. Because it wasn't a job. It was a passion with rewards.
By the time a new morning dawned, bringing cracks of thunder and a torrent of rain, a sense of contentment surrounded him.
He loved that contentment, but he wasn't used to it, and wasn't sure how long it would last--he wanted it to last. He was so used to everything going to hell.
Worry drove him from the bed, though he was careful not to wake Jessie Kay.
What would happen if ever he lost her?
He dressed in a pair of low-hung sweatpants and made his way to the kitchen. Rather than digging through the fridge to begin cooking breakfast, he stopped at the sink, curling his fingers around the ledge and peering out the window. Hail hammered the backyard.
Just then, he kind of felt like the ground. Like he was taking a beating.
He'd lived with misery for so long--and by choice--that he had no idea how to deal with this kind of happiness. But he needed to figure it out, and fast. Jessie Kay had nailed the issue.
We've both done our best to keep this relationship in a box. Want each other, but not too much. Be with each other while maintaining distance. Be intimate, but not too intimate.
He'd thought he was all in. He hadn't been.
Until now.
He'd tried to give this but not that. Enjoy this but not that. And it hadn't mattered. He'd almost lost her. Despite trying to keep a part of himself separate, despite trying to protect his heart, he would have felt the same: devastated.
He lowered his head, his chin pressing into his sternum. He'd once told himself he wouldn't fall in love, wouldn't marry, wouldn't have a family because Tessa couldn't have those things, and for ten years he'd stayed true to that vow. He'd chosen women he wanted but didn't like, and he'd parted with them easily.
Until Jessie Kay.
On paper, she was wrong for him in every way. A past as checkered as his own. She'd been with both his friends. She operated by Jessie Kay Standard Time, sometimes ignoring West Central. But despite all of that, she complemented his life. She made him laugh. She constantly surprised him with the things she said and did. She had a sensitive heart, a caring heart. A giving heart.
They could build something real.
All he had to do was let go of what remained of his guilt and grab on to her. A true early release. Not just with words, but with action. With emotion.
At the thought, razors slashed at his chest and sweat beaded on his brow.
Arms wrapped around him from behind. Through the fabric of a T-shirt, soft breasts pressed against his back, Jessie Kay's heart beating against his ribs. She rested her head against his shoulder, the softness of her skin reminding him of silk. The fragrance of pecans and cinnamon enveloped him, delighted him.
"I missed you," she said softly. "Wanted to wake up in your arms."
Let go of the guilt...grab on to her...
"I once asked you to forgive me for the way I treated you," he said, "but what right did I have to ask you to do something I've never been willing to do myself? I think it's time to forgive myself for the past. All of it."
Guilt was an anchor. Bitterness was poison. If one didn't kill you, the other would. They caused happiness, joy and contentment to dry up and wither away, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. An emptiness he'd once struggled to fill with drugs and misery. An emptiness Jessie Kay could now fill with laughter and light.
I'm sorry I let you down, Tessa. I'm sorry I put something toxic above my feelings for you. I've hated myself so long and fought so hard to hang on to what could have been, but I'm letting go now.
I'm sorry for what I did to Jase, for staying quiet, for letting my friend rot behind bars while I rotted behind guilt.
West had learned from his mistakes. He'd grown up.
"I'm so proud of you," Jessie Kay said, giving him a squeeze.
He stared into the storm raging outside and for the first time in years, the storm inside him calmed. The razors in his chest dulled. The sweat on his brow evaporated. He pried his fingers from the counter, one at a time, the action symbolic. He did it--he let go. Let the guilt drift off into the ether like a discarded balloon.
A heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. A massive pressure eased from his chest, one he hadn't known he'd borne.
He turned to face Jessie Kay, banding his arms around her, holding on tight to the new center of his world. "You missed me, huh? Good. My master plan is working."
"Mmm. Do tell."
"Step one, draw you into the kitchen..." He swung her around and placed her on the counter. "Step two, have you for breakfast."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
WEST, HER PASSIONATE, deliciously filthy lover, turned out to be a dirty, dirty traitor!
After a night of worshipping her body, he'd picked up the phone and dialed Brook Lynn, saying, "Jessie Kay lost her temper yesterday. She was mad at me and threw my bag across the room. She even beat on me a little bit, and I have the bruises to prove it. Congrats! You won the bet. Make sure you collect your prize."
Now Jessie Kay had to wear outfits of her sister's choosing for an entire week. The horror! She would discover the atrocities to be visited upon her in two hours, when she headed over to help with lunch deliveries. You've Got It Coming was back on track, the fire already an afterthought...to everyone but West.
He was still hovering, but he was different in other ways. Forgiving himself had changed him for the better, and she wasn't yet sure how to handle him. The way he looked at her now...soft and sweet, as if she were a treasure he was seeing for the first time. The way he touched her now...as if he'd never felt anything so luxurious--or wanted anything more.
"Building up your stamina on the field may turn out to be the death of me in the bedroom," he said during their morning soccer practice. He'd erected a shelter of sorts in her backyard, a goalpost on the left side and a goalpost on the right, a tent stretching high overhead between the two, protecting her from the wind and rain. He'd even warmed the area with industrial-sized heaters, allowing her to go without a coat in the dead of winter. Two strategically placed halogen lights illuminated the area, chasing away the storm's thickest shadows.
"You're welcome," she replied. "What a way to go, huh?"
He tweaked her nose. "You
are too precious for words."
He kept doing that, kept complimenting her. It was disconcerting! If he'd been charming before, he was now irresistible, the difference both stunning and amazing her, leaving her careening. She didn't just love this man...she would die for him. Kill for him. Do anything for him.
He checked his watch, the action drawing her back into the present. "All right, kitten. Time for us to shower or you'll be late to the farmhouse."
"Time for me to shower, you mean, or I'll definitely be late."
"Time is circular, remember?" He followed her to the bathroom. "According to Jessie Kay Standard, no matter what time you get there, you won't be late."
"Yes, well, I'm dating Mr. Obsessive now. I've had to adjust my thinking." She gave him a smile--then she gave him the finger--and shut the door in his face.
That should teach him not to tattle!
He burst out laughing, surprising her, filling her heart with joy. "You've earned yourself a punishment, kitten. You've lost the privilege of wearing a bra for the next twenty-four hours. And yes, there will be an inspection."
She lost more than her bra. She lost her breath, because dang it, he was sexy as hell.
She showered and dressed...and she did not wear a bra. But then, she didn't need one. The day dress she selected--one of her older creations--had a halter top that hugged her breasts, holding them in place. She draped a sweater over her shoulders and warmed her legs with thick black tights.
West did indeed inspect her, standing behind her and sliding his hands underneath her top. His warm breath tickled her as he nibbled on her earlobe. "I'm glad you take your punishments seriously."
"As the moral compass for this relationship, I have to learn better manners."
"That's right. You do. That's why you're going to stand in front of Mr. West's class tonight and do a little show-and-tell. I'll want to hear all about the impact of this particular lesson." He kneaded her and pinched her nipples before he released her. "Let's get you to your sister before our schedule is completely blown."
Our schedule, he'd said. Not his. Not hers. Theirs. She smiled.
"I'll drive you to the farmhouse," he said. He wore a T-shirt and jeans, which meant he had no meetings today and would be working on a game.
She knew better than to argue and tell him she wanted to drive herself. He'd told her how things would be, and she'd told him she understood--which she did. Stupid Monica!
Jessie Kay dared the girl to show her face today. The bitch would pay. Playing nice? Not anymore! Why bother, anyway? She'd already lost the bet with her sister, so there was no longer any reason to remain calm.
When they reached their destination, West walked her to the door. He looked a little panicky, his eyes wild, his grip on her tightening. However, he surprised her by saying, "Text me and keep me updated. Think about me today. I doubt I'll be doing anything but remembering you."
Had sweeter words ever been spoken? "I'll be aching for you," she whispered.
White-hot desire flashed over his features. In a snap, he drew her in for a sizzling kiss, his tongue thrusting against hers in a mimic of the down-and-dirty sex they'd had before soccer practice. This one didn't last long, just enough time to rev her motor.
When he straightened, he breathed, "You might just be the best thing that's ever happened to me," straight into her ear and then...just...left.
Her knees threatened to give out. Sweet fancy. She had to fan her overheating cheeks as she made her way into the kitchen. West was, without a doubt, the most perfect man in the world. He not only said the nicest things, he'd decided to trust her to take care of--
Nope. He hadn't decided to trust her to take care of herself. Jase stood watch at the back door, a tower of muscle and determination.
Should have known.
"Why aren't you refurbishing the bathroom?" she asked. The faint scent of smoke still permeated the air, a sobering reminder that life could change in a blink.
Blink. Almost lost West. Blink. Won him back.
"I paid someone to work all night so I could spend time with you and Brook Lynn today," he replied.
Yeah. That was why.
"Ignoring me won't make me go away," Brook Lynn said as she chopped vegetables.
Crap! "I know you've got my first outfit stashed somewhere. Let's see it."
Her sister jumped up and down, clapping with excitement. "West made a special request. Said it was only fair since he compromised his principles and ratted out his girlfriend." An anticipatory pause, Brook Lynn's smile growing wider. "Jase. Please do the honors."
Jase stepped to the side, revealing the clothing hanging from the upper lip of the door. One of the Kevlar vests Brook Lynn kept stashed in the zombie shed, paired with fire-retardant pants firefighters wore. Well. It could have been worse. Not by much, but okay. Whatever.
"We are about to embark on a week of fun, amusement and all-around amazingness," Brook Lynn said. "For me."
"And all the rest of us," Jase said.
Brook Lynn smirked at Jessie Kay. "New Year's is only three days away and I'm throwing a party for my closest friends. Which means you have to come. Which means you have to wear what I say."
This. This was worse. "You're going to remember you love me and ensure the rest of the outfits flatter me, right?"
"Yeah. Keep dreaming."
*
JESSIE KAY MADE deliveries with Jase at her side, the guy tense and alert and probably armed. She saved West's sandwich for last because yes, he'd called and put in an order. Either he'd wanted to check on her, or he'd hoped to have a quickie in his office. Maybe both.
Fingers crossed!
As she and Jase trekked the sidewalks through the town square, the storm continued to rage. At least the hail had stopped. They were able to stay semidry under the gargantuan umbrella he held.
"Since I can't ditch you, I've decided to use you for information about West. And don't try to pull any bro-code crap and tell me you can't talk about him. I'll be forced to remind you of our past connection and the fact that I never tried to stop you from pursuing my sister. And yes, I will use this to guilt you into doing whatever I want for the rest of our lives. Deal with it."
One corner of his mouth kicked up. "I hope you're like this with West."
"Because I'm awesome and he deserves the best?"
"That's as good an explanation as any, I suppose."
She gave his arm a playful punch.
There was no one more private than Jase, and she knew from experience just how difficult it was to get him to open up. A task she'd failed to do. Brook Lynn, however, had pried him open as if he were a clam.
"What was West like as a kid?" Even though Jessie Kay had poured on the guilt trip, she expected failure.
When the next clap of thunder quieted, however, Jase surprised her by saying, "By the time we met, we'd both been through a lot and were leery of letting anyone in. A childless couple hoped to help the most troubled boys in the system, so Beck was there, too, along with three others. Believe it or not, I was the scrawny one of the bunch. Just skin and bones. The other three boys, I don't even remember their names, they took one look at me and decided I'd make the perfect whipping boy."
Hanging on his every word, she cursed when another clap of thunder rang out. "What happened?"
"When the couple went to bed that first night, the boys snuck into the room I shared with West and Beck and yanked me out of the top bunk I'd been assigned. They stuffed a gag in my mouth so I wouldn't wake the fosters, but West and Beck were right there and heard the commotion. They jumped out of their beds and beat the shit out of my tormentors. Two against three, and they won by a landslide. We've had each other's backs ever since."
Her heart ached for the boys they'd been. Abandoned, mistreated, abused.
West was a wounded warrior. As a kid, he'd faced down bullies of every age. As an adult, he'd relived his fears simply to share with her.
"What's that you're wearing, Jessie K
ay?" Mr. Porter--Daniel's dad--suddenly called. As always, he sat in front of Style Me Tender with Mr. Rodriguez, playing checkers under the calm of an awning. The two were more reliable than the local mailman.
"I lost a bet with Brook Lynn," she called back. "She gets to pick my wardrobe for a week."
The two males nodded as if they'd never heard anything more reasonable.
"She up for suggestions?" Mr. Rodriguez asked.
"Definitely," Jase replied. "Just give her a call."
Jessie Kay gave him another punch in the arm. They turned a corner, the two men falling out of view...and WOH appearing on the horizon. Her stomach began to churn for a different reason. West! So close!
"You're good for him," Jase said. "He's different with you. More like the West I knew when we were kids. Lighter--not that we were ever light--if that makes any sense."
"It does," she said, pleasure blooming. She was lighter with him.
They reached the office building, a bell tinkling over the door as they stepped inside, the sound like musical chimes. Cora sat at her desk and waved in greeting. Jessie Kay stopped short when she spotted West in his office. The walls were glass, offering a clear view. He could have pressed a button and caused an opaque film to cover every inch, but he hadn't. He stood in front of his desk...a young woman standing before him.
The problem? The bitch had her hands on his shoulders.
"Someone is going to die today," Jessie Kay muttered.
Jase followed the line of her gaze and cursed. "You've got to be kidding me." He looked to Cora. "Do you know the woman's name? Patience...something?"
Cora checked the notes in front of her and nodded. "That's right. Patience Ludwick."
"Who is Patience Ludwick?" Jessie Kay demanded, her fingers squeezing the sandwich she held, smashing the bread.
"He used to date her," Jase admitted reluctantly. "I never met her, but he kept me up-to-date on his life, visiting me in prison and showing me pictures."
Jessie Kay took a step forward, only to draw short again. When West took Patience by the wrists and forced her hands off his shoulders, she breathed a sigh of relief. He backed the woman into a chair, and when her knees hit the edge, she just sort of tumbled onto the cushion. He immediately took a step away from her, widening the distance between them. There was a hard gleam in his eyes, and tension pulled his lips into a thin line. Not the sort of sensual tension he usually projected at Jessie Kay, but something steeped in anger.