Ozzie is talking into my cell. “Sahara.” He glances down at me, his eyes full of meaning, but one I cannot discern. It could be stress at dealing with whatever happened or something else. I don’t know him well enough to read him, and now I’m not sure that I could ever know him that well.
He’s like no man I’ve ever met before. Just now, when he thought an intruder was here, he didn’t hesitate; he threw me in the bathroom and headed out to take care of it. I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life, so cared for. I thought I had the maximum-level hots for him before, but I was wrong. I’d have sex with him on the bathroom floor right this second if he asked.
“Okay, thanks,” he says to the person on the phone. “I’m resetting now. Don’t assume it’s not a real call if you get another one tonight.” He nods a few times. “Thanks. Later.”
He shuts the call down and hands me my phone.
“What the hell was that?” I emerge from my hideout on shaky legs. Felix wants to get down, but I’m not letting him do that yet. Sahara is there at my feet, sniffing his legs from below.
“Someone came onto your property, but the alarm that I tripped scared them off.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No, but I’m going to assume it was the man who saw you in the bar.”
“Why would you do that? It could have been a cat or dog or a raccoon.” I don’t want it to be a bad guy; I want it to be a false alarm. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for that stupid alert to go off.
“You have raccoons that stand four feet tall in this neighborhood? Because that’s the minimum height that’ll set off the device.”
We’re standing in the middle of the living room now. My outrage has turned to fear. “No.”
“The alarm only triggers when a person-sized object crosses over the edge of your property. Unfortunately, whoever it was—assuming they know anything about security systems—now knows that you have a perimeter warning system up.”
“And that’s bad because . . .?”
“Because now they can disable it, and it won’t help you anymore.”
“But I thought this system is state of the art.” I’m whining. I can’t help it.
“Nothing is state of the art for someone knowledgeable and determined enough.”
My face falls. “Oh. That sucks.”
“I’d really like it if you would come stay at my place.”
I chew my lip, considering my options.
Plan A: Stay here and fear for my life and possibly put Ozzie’s life in danger too . . . or
Plan B: Go to his place and have that giant warehouse around us for protection. And the guns. And the swords. And the singlesticks. And that bed with the black satin sheets . . .
“Fine. I’ll stay at your place.” Yeah, that was an easy one.
“Thank you.” He steps closer and puts his arms around my waist.
“On one condition,” I say, putting my finger on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.
“What’s that?”
I can’t even think of a condition. I want to say that he can’t trick me into sleeping with him, but then I’d be putting myself in sexual purgatory. Seeing Ozzie every day, but not being able to touch him? No thanks. Besides, it’s not like he needs to trick me to sleep with him. I already propositioned him, as he so indelicately pointed out earlier.
“You have to cook,” I say, quickly rescuing myself from being a total fool. “I can’t cook worth anything, and you’re great at it.”
“Done.”
“And . . . !” I hold up my finger near his chin.
His eyes are sparkling. “And?”
“And . . . you have to teach me how to use that singlestick.”
“Dev could show you.”
“But I want you to do it.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll show you how to use the singlestick.”
“And . . . !” I place my hand gently on his cheek.
His voice is barely above a whisper. “And?” He’s smiling.
“And I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” There. I said it. My worst fear is now out there in the air between us. I suck in bed. I’ve been told that by three different guys, so I believe it. And I never get those sensations that women describe in magazines and on sexy blogs, so I have all the self-confirmation I need. Some women are tigers in bed, but I’m more like a small, weak kitten. It’s not that I don’t try; it’s just that I fail regardless.
The truth is that the scariest thing in my life is not a potential murderer who might be out there looking to gun me down; it’s that I’m doomed to mediocre sex for the rest of my life, and I’ll have to find a man who’s okay with that for the rest of his life. Yes, it’s possible I might have my priorities a little screwed up, but being bad at sex can be pretty devastating.
I continue with my confession. “I’m not good in bed, and I don’t want you to be disappointed in me later, so I’m telling you now. Full disclosure.”
He’s still smiling.
“It’s not a joke, Ozzie. I’m serious. I suck in bed.”
“That’s good.”
My face gets hot as the double meaning sinks in. “I don’t mean I suck, like literally . . .”
He play-pouts.
I giggle and it sounds crazy leaving my lips, so I cut it off immediately. “Of course I do that . . . I suck literally . . .” As soon as the words are out, I hate myself. Stupid much, May?!
Recover! Quick! “Ha-ha! I mean, that in bed, I’m not talented. Skilled. I’m lame in bed. But I try. I do try.” My face falls as I realize that I’ve pretty much just guaranteed myself an empty bed whenever he’s in town. No way will he want to be with someone as goofy as I am.
He leans down without saying anything and kisses me.
Slowly at first, and then with more urgency, his lips move against mine. Somehow we fit together perfectly. When he moves right to deepen the connection, I tilt my head left, and it works like magic. His tongue comes out to touch mine. It’s big, just like the rest of him. Hot. Wet. Slippery. Oh my . . .
Little shivers zing around inside me like they’re electrified. I kind of melt into him, wanting to be closer. He pulls me against him, and I love how his hard muscles press into my softer parts. This was meant to be. It has to be. It feels too good to be anything else.
His hands drop to my waist and rest there for a few moments while we play with each other’s tongues. He grabs mine gently with his teeth and I giggle, taking it back. Then he presses his hips into mine, and I can feel his hard length again. He pulls his head back and smiles down at me. “Anyone who can kiss like you can’t possibly suck in bed. And when I say suck, I mean not be good.”
I smile shyly, practically drowning in the kindness and promises I see in his eyes. “You’re just being nice.”
“No, I’m just being turned on as hell and really looking forward to being inside you.” He smacks me hard on the butt and steps away. “Not now, though. Business before pleasure.”
I stand there in the middle of my living room, stunned. My panties are damp, my body is ringing with unspent passion, and my brain is spinning circles around itself. What just happened? He wants to be inside me? Hallelujah, baby, I’m gonna get laid tonight!
Just the thought has me panicking all over again.
He, of course, is oblivious to my mental anguish, probably never suffering a single nanosecond of self-doubt in his life.
His voice comes out like a drill sergeant’s. “Come on! Chop-chop! Get the lead out! We’ve got some packing to do!” He’s already halfway up my staircase.
I look over at the dogs. Both of them are asleep. Neither of them knows that my world just got turned upside down and inside out by a guy who used to have the most horrible beard on the planet but who now looks like he stepped out of my hottest, sexiest, wettest dream ever.
In my next life, I want to come back as a dog. I think everything will be a lot simpler than the stuff going on in this crazy world I?
??m living in right now.
I sigh and follow in Ozzie’s trail. Before I even reach my room, I can hear him opening up drawers. I feel like I’ve lost control of everything when I see a suitcase open on the bed and it’s already half full of my clothing.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” I ask, leaning on the doorframe. Now that I’m not in his arms, I have a better perspective for what I’m getting into. This could end really badly for both of us. When he kissed me this time, I felt it in my heart. And while Jenny is right—hearts do heal—it sure hurts like hell when they get broken.
“I’m sure. Get whatever you need out of your bathroom. I’ll hit the closet next. We leave after I let the dogs out for a quick run around the yard.”
I wander into the bathroom, hoping The Fates have everything under control, because I know I sure don’t.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The port is quiet, or as quiet as the Port of New Orleans can ever be. Even in the dead of night, there’re things going on, with people moving around, shipments arriving or leaving, business to be attended to. We pull into the warehouse, and I don’t get out of my car until the door shuts behind us with a solid boom.
Ozzie sets an alarm at a keypad near the main door before coming over to my car and unloading my suitcases. There are three, including a small bag for Felix’s toys and bowls. My furbaby hops out of my car and joins Sahara. They climb the stairs to Ozzie’s home ahead of us.
“You’ll take my bedroom and I’ll set up the cot for myself in the kitchen.”
I sigh, battling in my head over the whole plan. Having to stay here really complicates an already overly complicated situation. I hate that it’s my fault.
“You should take your bed. I don’t mind the cot.”
“Sorry, no can do. I get my way on this one.”
“On this one? Are we taking turns?” We reach the top of the stairs and I press in the code Ozzie gives me to enter. The door clicks and I pull it open. Felix and Sahara push in first. I hold it in place for Ozzie, who’s loaded down with all my bags. Those muscles really do come in handy sometimes. It’s pretty impressive, actually, to see that they’re not just for show. I think he could bench-press me. I’m kind of fascinated to see if it makes any difference in the bedroom. The last guy I was with weighed almost the same as me. Jenny called him The Twig.
“No, we’re not taking turns,” Ozzie says, moving through the sword room. “You can have your way all the time unless I decide I need to have my way.”
I smile. “I guess I can handle that. As long as you don’t decide you need to have your way more than half the time.”
His response is a grunt.
Moving down the hallway, I feel my steps slowing. This is his domain, not mine. His business, his home, his kitchen, even. What am I doing here? Is he going to hate me when he wakes up with a sore back from that cot? Am I taking advantage of his hospitality, of his need to care for his employees?
He puts my cases down on the floor by the bed. “I can clear a couple drawers out for you here so you don’t have to live out of your suitcases.” He moves over to a bureau. “I know two’s not enough, but I can move a rack in here for your hanging things.”
I walk over and put my hand on his arm. “Ozzie, stop.” I look up at him, pleading with my eyes.
His hands drop to his sides. “Stop what?”
“Stop . . . doing all this. Taking care of me while throwing yourself out of your own room.”
His voice goes very soft, very calm. “I’m not going to stop, May, I’m sorry. It’s not who I am.”
I stomp my foot, frustrated with our situation. “Why?” This is going to doom our relationship or any chance at a relationship that we might have had. It’s so unfair!
He takes one of my hands by the fingers and shakes it a little. “You’re getting really worked up over nothing. I’ve slept more nights on the ground than I care to remember. That cot’s a big step up.” He looks over his shoulder at the bed. “That mattress is way too soft, anyway. You’ll be doing me a favor.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll sleep there.”
He moves closer and pulls me into a hug, resting his chin on my head. I try to wrap my arms around his upper back, but I can’t. He’s too big. I settle for his waist, which is much narrower. Now I can reach my hands around the other side of him the right way. I squeeze with as much appreciation as I have in me.
“You’re too nice,” I say, sadness tingeing my voice. “I’m afraid it’s going to ruin everything.”
“Nothing’s going to get ruined by me treating you the way you deserve to be treated.” He pulls back and looks down at me. “Are you one of those women who’s been treated bad, told she’s worthless or something?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve had just a few boyfriends, and they were all nice enough. Just . . .”—I shrug—“not the right one for me.”
He holds me again, like he’s enjoying just standing there in the middle of his room doing nothing but trying to make me feel better. I love the strength of him I can feel, not just through his muscles, but in the way his mind works and his heart is. Ozzie being in charge of security makes all the sense in the world. I can’t feel anything less than totally safe in his arms. Protected. Cared for, even.
“I can’t make you any promises, except to say that I’ll keep you safe,” he says, his voice gruff.
He assumes my only fear is of the man who tried to shoot us back at Frankie’s. He’s right about that partially; I am afraid of that man. But that’s not the only thing worrying me. Jenny calls me tenderhearted, and I wouldn’t disagree with her on that.
“But what if the danger is coming from you?” I whisper back. My heart twists inside my chest as I imagine falling in love with him and then being cast aside. Committing to a real relationship is hard enough, but to take the risk and then get burned for it? I’d have to move in with my sister so she could take care of me for the rest of my life; I’d be that devastated.
“You have nothing to fear from me, I promise.”
“I don’t fear being hurt,” I say in a small voice. “I fear being shattered.”
He lets me go. The pain starts to come from what I assume is his rejection, but then it’s swept away when he picks me up in his arms like a baby.
“How about we go to bed right now and worry about all the things that might never happen, tomorrow?”
He uses his elbow to shut the light off. One lamp remains lit next to the bed, casting a faint glow around the room. It’s the sexy kind of lighting that makes me look really good naked, or as good as I can look without my clothes on. Score.
I reach up to slide my hand over his chest. “That sounds good to me.” My head rises as his falls so we can meet in the middle for a kiss.
It’s over much quicker than I anticipated, though. I have no time to figure out why that is before I’m lost and confused, flying through the air as he launches me right out of his arms and toward the bed.
I’m airborne! Oh my god! Will I die?!
Boof! I land on the mattress on my back and bounce high once before coming to a halt in the middle of the covers. I stare at the ceiling while my brain computes what just happened.
Oh my god . . . he actually threw me!
“Wait here for me. I’ll be right back.” He grins at me and takes off jogging from the room.
“Ozzie!” I screech, trying to get my breath back from that near-death experience. My head turns right and then left. I am still alive. Nothing’s broken. My breath was stolen from me a bit, but it’s back. I literally flew four feet up into the air on the first bounce off that too-soft bed. What the hell.
“I’m going to kill you for that!” I scan the room for a weapon. I swear I’ll use it too. He’s trained. He can fight back. If he chooses to let me win, well, that’s his problem.
His warm chuckles come down the hall from the kitchen, and instead of making up plans for retribution, I scootch back a bit and recline against
the pillows, wondering what he’s up to now. I have a feeling I’m going to like it a lot, and I can’t help grinning about it. Being with him is like being at a crazy amusement park. I never know what’s going to happen next, but it’s always fun.
CHAPTER FORTY
I hear a tinkling of glass before he rounds the corner. He has a bottle in one hand and two tall champagne flutes in the other.
“I was saving this for the next birthday but figured we could have some now.”
I sit up slowly, a little stunned by what I’m seeing. Ozzie is usually so reserved. This enthusiastic, happy person is not someone I’ve met before. I have a hard time believing anyone else on the team has seen him either. To think he might only act this way in my presence makes me go warm inside. I think he really likes me. A goofy smile takes over my face.
He puts the glasses down on his nightstand and twists the wire cage off the top of the cork. “I hope you like champagne.”
I slide my legs over until they’re hanging off the side of the bed. “I do like champagne. I don’t have it very often.”
“I have a friend with a vineyard in France. He sends me a few cases every year.”
“Nice friend.”
“We’ve done some work for him.”
“What kind of work does a vineyard owner need from a security company?”
“Oh, they had some rare vintage stuff that was sent over for the president. We made sure it got where it was supposed to go in the condition it was supposed to be in.”
“The president? As in the president of the United States?”
“The one and only.”
“Wow. That’s just . . . crazy.”
The cork flies off and zooms across the room, distracting me from Ozzie’s impressive client list. I only see it again when it bounces off the wall and lands on the floor. Felix pokes his head around the corner of the door, and within seconds his eyes lock on that cork. He grabs it and disappears again. This means there will be shredded champagne cork somewhere in Ozzie’s house for me to clean up later. Sigh. At least the little bugger will be happy and occupied for a while.
Ozzie pours one glass full and hands it to me when the foam is halfway calmed down. When the second glass is full, he puts the bottle on the side table and lifts the flute. “Here’s to new beginnings.”