Just His Taste (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Thursday Morning

Jason cranked the level up on the elliptical. Tension increased on his jog-swing-run-step thing. Didn't care. It was his favorite cardio machine. Strong workout, minimal stress on his bad knee.

All good.

At least something was good, normal and routine right now. Because he needed normal. Challenge the crazy obsession that had hit him out of nowhere. This insane attraction to Tessa. Just thinking about it brought images of her, and he wanted to stab his eyeballs out to make them go away.

Overkill, probably.

Erase the images? Not likely.

It didn't make any sense. It hadn't started when he pretended to be her date. He didn't remember any attraction at all.

He'd even told—

Shit.

Who had he gone for drinks with?

He couldn't remember.

Damn!

He couldn't remember whom he'd been out with after the wedding. He knew he'd gone out, and had taken her—it had to be a
her
—back to the car. After arriving, he sort of recalled a conversation, and whenever he thought about it—though he couldn't remember a word of it—he felt that lump in his gut that signaled distress. But it still remained fuzzy.

There'd been a motorcycle…and mile-long legs wrapping around that motorcycle. Who those legs belonged to, though, remained a mystery.

Then the van had a flat tire.

Tessa showed up.

Lust. Lots of lust. Innuendoes. Kissing. But even in the heat of the moment, something about it didn't feel right. Somehow, with the blessing of a tiny bit of rational control, he'd pulled away.

Sunday, he'd tried to write the whole thing off as drunken hormones getting the best of him. He was slightly hungover—unusual for him—and felt like a total ass all day. He had considered entering a one-day cook-off, but decided not to because it was right after the wedding.

As crappy as he felt today, he was glad he hadn't. Though barbecuing always made him feel better. Hell, maybe if he had, he wouldn't feel so shitty.

Jason assumed his sudden interest in Tessa would blow over, and his head would clear up. Yet it hadn't. Even when he was working, it didn't fade, and he couldn't find any perspective.

If Tessa was having the same problems, she kept it to herself. He hadn't gotten one text/email/call from her since Saturday. Probably a good thing.

His head was so cloudy—maybe it was best if he didn't remember.

The elliptical beeped, and Jason realized he'd been in his head for the entire session on the machine.

Sad.

“Routine, that's what I need,” he muttered. Climbing down from his machine, he wiped the sweat from his brow, and realized his hair was getting precariously close to needing another buzz. He padded into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, repeating the mantra in his head.

Routine.

Routine.

Back into my routine.

His smartphone lay on the counter, and he pulled up his day's schedule.

“Oh yeah. The job for Bruce.” He needed a few more photos—he'd already gotten a few of the subject entering and leaving her work.

Jason shook his head.

This was not the kind of stuff he liked to do. It was one thing to follow a cheating husband or wife around. At least then, there was purpose.

Bruce's request, however, didn't sit well with him. Especially after he'd learned why the gal didn't post pictures of herself. She had a reason. One that, if she really was good friends with Bruce, she'd tell him when she was ready.

Things were never what they appeared.

He shook his head, downed the rest of his Gatorade.

Time to—

His phone started to ring.

Jason cringed. It was Tessa. And immediately he was torn—part of him was happy to hear from her; the other part, very unsure about it.

“Hello?”

“It's Tessa,” she said, her voice low.

“What is going on?”

“I need another date.”

“What for?”

She sighed. “You have a tux?”

“Uh—” He had one. He thought. Maybe.

“It's black tie.”

“Okay.”

“Well, do you or not? I need this,” she snapped.

“Yeah, I have a tux. What's going on?”

“Fundraiser for the mayor. I can't go to the fundraiser without a date.”

“Kinda late, isn't it?”

“Look, I just…the thing is—”

“Is what?”

“Lucas will be there. I just can't go alone, when I know he's going to be bringing some floozy to the fundraiser.”

Jason sighed. “You know, maybe it's time you moved on. Let him see how awesome you are without him.”

“You think I'm awesome?”

“Sure. Anyone would.”

“Thank you.” Clattering through the phone told Jason she'd switched sides, and must have been wearing big earrings. “Now, about tonight.”

“Yes, I'll come. When and where?”

“Can I pick you up at five?”

“That early?”

“There's a dinner.”

“Oh.”

Chapter Twelve

Ava watched her charge from a distance. She still wasn't allowed to leave the healers' ward. They said maybe she could today, but so far no one had come in and dismissed her. She was anxious to get down there and really see if her charge was okay.

Yeah, that was what she told herself. It didn't have anything to do with him personally, and wondering if he…

Well, if he thought about their little moment together.

“Stop it,” she muttered to herself, and focused on her crocheting. Six unfinished stocking caps hung in midair, crochet hooks paused in the hats, waiting for her to continue with the one in her lap. It resembled the dancing brooms in
Fantasia
—as she worked, the hats making themselves, all mimicking what she did.

But it passed the time.

So she had a weird hobby. Everyone did. Ava crocheted. But one of the bonuses of being a fairy was she could make seven stocking caps at a time, instead of one. It was awesome when she was making an afghan with different pieces. She could crochet a bunch of pieces at once, and it took no time to finish the blanket.

Over the centuries, she'd mastered the art of tackling multiple projects. Even now, the simple stocking hats would all be adorable, but she didn't give them to her friends.

They'd probably never believe that she rode motorcycles, wore leather bodysuits and crocheted hats.

How'd that song go?

One of these things doesn't match the other…

Something like that, anyway.

So, as Ava resumed her shell pattern—chain one, double stitch, half stich, double stitch, chain—the other needles moved, and each stocking cap continued. So adept at this, she could crochet and watch her charge on the little screen she'd opened. At least she'd know if Cupid had started shooting arrows at Jason.

So far, no arrows that she'd seen.

Didn't help she was about to go nuts, stuck in here. She wouldn't put it past Cupid to take advantage of her being unavailable.

Why did I spend any time with that jerk?
It didn't make sense. She would be mad at him, and wind up still going back to his place, or him to hers.

He was the God of Love, but still, that didn't explain why he would have such a pull on her. She needed to get back to her job. Do what she was supposed to be doing instead of worrying about Cupid's shit.

“I need to get back at it,” she muttered as she watched Jason's day. He'd gotten an early phone call from Tessa. Then he'd gone out, taken pictures of a young lady and headed over to his office—a little suite he shared with another private investigator.

Had that been in the files?

Ava waved her hand in the air, and Jason's file materialized. Ava nodded, and the pages turned so she could read more details about Jason's job.

“Oh, so he works with his dad.” Ava glanced at the image of Jason at his dinky office. She panned it out to show the other man.

“Totally his dad,” she said, grinning. Man had the same severe haircut as Jason, though mostly white. Same jawline, same brown eyes. Just an older version.

“Well, Jason's going to grow into a handsome older man,” she said, giggling. And then blushed, realizing how inappropriate the comment was. Why would she care if Jason's dad was handsome? That wasn't part of her job.

Ava turned back to the file. Flipped to the last page.

Her shoulders drooped when she saw that the file had changed. Before, there'd been an open space, signifying there was a possible second HEA, instead of just Tessa. Ava hadn't been too fond of Tessa at the wedding. No particular reason, except how she'd scowled at Ava. But that really didn't mean anything.

Not logically, anyway.

But Ava didn't have to like her.

Now, though, Ava would have to deal with the woman since the file had changed, and the only listed HEA was Tessa.

“Maybe I'm wrong about her,” she muttered.

Yeah.

Maybe she was. That was what she was going with, anyway.

The file had never led her astray before, and while she didn't always dive into it immediately, she did eventually read it. Though most of the time her hunches were spot on, without looking.

This time, though, she seemed to be off her game.

A lot.

Maybe guys were just different…

“Miss Avalynn?” One of the healers floated into the room. “How are you feeling today?”

Ava waved her hand, and all the crochet disappeared as the healer advanced toward her. “Better. Ready to get out of here.”

“That is a good sign,” she said, smiling. She fluttered around Ava, checking her wings. Ava didn't wince as the lady moved her sprained wings around. “These wings are looking much better.” She flitted around some more, and Ava was unable to see what she did. “Yes, yes, dearie, these look much better.”

“So can I go?”

“You can leave today, under your own care, but I would be careful how I used those for the next few weeks.” She put her hand on Ava's shoulder. “Is there any way you can pass off your charge? Possibly get someone to take it over? A member of your trio, perhaps?”

Ava shook her head. “We just started.”

“Ahh.” She came around front and crossed her arms over her chest “Well, if at all possible, try not to use your wings right away. They could still use a little rest. Maybe try to do a little of your work in human form.”

Ava smirked. “I can do that.”

“Good. Then you're free to go.”

Chapter Thirteen

Thursday Night

Shit, I wore a tux for this?
Jason thought. It was the driest chicken he'd ever tasted.

He glanced around the fancy ballroom, equipped with the perfect lighting to highlight the bling on the guests. So much bling, Jason felt like he was stuck on a J.J. Abrams film, complete with lens flair.

Guess this is more for the atmosphere than the food.

He forced himself to shovel another dry bite of meat into his mouth, all the while thinking of the bazillion ways he could have made the meal better.

So much better.

“What's the matter?” Tessa whispered to him, jabbing her elbow in his side.

He leaned in, getting a whiff of her cologne. The smell should have been enticing, sweet and subtle. As strong as his feelings for Tessa had been over the last few days, he should have been hard as a rock and ready to jump her bones.

Yet it didn't
feel
right.

“Jason?” Tessa said again.

“Chicken's dry,” he replied.

She sighed. “Well at least look like you like it.”

“Sorry.” He painted a smile on his face. Took another bite and followed with a big gulp of tea to cleanse his pallet.

He pushed the green beans around, unimpressed with the catering as a whole.

“Not hungry?” the blinged-out lady to his left who could have been his grandmother asked.

Jason held his pleasant grin. “Ate before I came.”

She leaned in a little. “I've tasted better chicken at Kentucky Fried.”

Jason smirked. “Not how I would have done it, that's for sure.”

She smiled back at him. “You like to cook?”

“Yep.”

The lady sat up straighter in her chair, the bling glittering across the table. “Well, what do you know? A man that likes to cook.” She glanced at Tessa. “You have a gem there, honey. Not many men like spending any time in the kitchen.”

Tessa patted Jason's arm. “I know. He makes the best ribs.”

Jason glanced at his date, keeping his face neutral at her compliment. “Thank you.” It was so weird hearing her being supportive of his hobby. She'd never cared before.

“So what do you do with your ribs?” a man from across the table asked.

“I can't tell my secrets,” Jason replied.

The man laughed. “We're all friends here.”

Uh-huh,
Jason thought.

“Jason is one of those barbecue pitmasters,” Tessa added. He glanced at her, and she winked at him. “Well you are. How many competitions have you won?”

Jason shrugged. “A few.” Keeping his answer vague made it sound much more impressive than it was. Granted, winning anything always looked good on a resume, but most of the stuff he'd placed, or even won, had been on the local level, working with his dad.

“Oh, you must tell us one secret,” the blinged-out woman said.

“Go on, honey,” Tessa prodded.

Jason winced at the term of endearment. “Well, the rub is important.” He began explaining the use of dry rub before cooking, and even continued with the difference between a marinade and a dry rub.

The entire table paused and listened. Some were so intent he wondered if they were taking notes on their phones.

“Really? Brown sugar?” the man who'd prompted him asked as Jason wound down his little lesson.

“I'm diabetic. I can't use real sugar,” another man said.

“Splenda makes a brown-sugar substitute,” Jason said. “Though you use half the substitute than what's called for in the recipe.” As he continued, he glanced at Tessa.

She seemed quite impressed.

Huh. Go figure.

After the food lesson, and having his brain picked for the rest of the meal, Jason was almost glad when the mayor began his speech.

Almost.

It was a nice speech, with puns and jokes that got smirks from the crowd in all the right places, but it bored Jason to bits. When it was finally done, more hobnobbing began.

He knew he'd done this as a favor, but he was about done with being around people. Tessa took him by the arm, leading him from group to group. In her element, Tessa smiled, talked—generally being a social butterfly.

Jason was…

Well…

Not.

Jason broke away, calling a bathroom break, and ducked out, feeling less suffocated out of the ballroom. He took care of his business, but before going back in, he found himself hovering by the door.

From a distance, Tessa looked great. She was still doing what she did, moving about the crowd seamlessly, even joining the mayor at one point. She smiled, flirted, laughed. Everything that was required.

It really was what she was good at.

It would be something he'd have to get used to.

He tensed at the thought as he crossed the threshold back into the ballroom. There it was again, that strange attraction that he couldn't explain. It gnarled at him, digging around inside in a way that he couldn't control. It wasn't normal. Not even when he and Tessa had been dating had he been overcome with attraction to her.

Granted, she always was attractive, was from day one, but that buzz hadn't been there like it should have been. That buzz like…

Shit.

What was it? Who, rather? Who was it that he'd gotten such a buzz over?

Had Tessa been the mystery woman he'd had drinks with after the wedding? He didn't think so. Whoever it had been, it wasn't the same as this new attraction for Tessa he'd felt ever since the wedding. It was something else. More, for this mystery woman.

Get a grip.

He was mooning over a woman he couldn't even remember. It must not have been that exciting. It had been a while since he'd actually been on a date. A real one, anyway.

Maybe that was why the mystery woman had him so intrigued. Loneliness. Mixed with a weird sort of need to settle for something that was there, instead of pressing on.

After all, if he met her again, he would probably not feel that same desire. He'd probably made it out to be more than what it was.

He shook his head. That didn't sound like him at all. When did he become so…so
girly
?

“Having fun?” came Lucas's voice.

Jason glanced over his shoulder and crossed his arms. “There's a lot of people and bling here,” Jason replied. He noticed Lucas seemed a lot more relaxed in the hobnobbing than he did. Lucas always had been—Jason had always thought the guy would wind up a politician.

Lucas nodded. “You never did care for politics, did you?”

“No.”

Lucas didn't say anything for a moment. “So, you going to tell me
now
what's up with Tessa?”

Jason raised his eyebrow. “You care a lot about your ex-girlfriend.”

“So do you.”

Jason tipped his head, conceding the point.

“Did you like the speech?” Lucas asked, sipping on his drink.

“Sure.”

“I wrote it.”

That's right,
Lucas worked in the mayor's office. Jason had forgotten that particular piece of information.

“How come that's not you up there drumming up funding?”

“It basically is. It's my words that make him look good.” Lucas finished off his champagne. “I prefer to work behind the scenes.”

“Easier to get things done.”

Lucas nodded. “Part of the reason I'm talking to you.”

“You trying to do something behind the scenes?”

“You don't need to be dating Tessa,” Lucas said.

Jason raised his eyebrow. “I bet your date over there wouldn't like hearing you say that.” He'd seen Lucas wandering around with a pretty brunette—the antithesis of Tessa.

Lucas crossed his arms. “Tessa doesn't rebound very well. Makes bad choices.”

“You should know,” Jason countered.

Lucas glared at him. “I was her recovery from your asshole behavior.”

“Yet here we are,” Jason said.

“Don't you dare fuck her over, Jason Gregorian. I don't want to spend another four years hearing about how you treated her so badly.” Lucas walked off.

Jason blinked.

I
treated
her
badly? Seriously?

Jason shook his head, wanting to find Tessa and figure out what the hell Lucas thought he'd done to her during their short-lived relationship. Evidently Tessa saw their past very differently than he did.

His pocket buzzed—not his private cell phone, but his work one. Which meant something had happened.

“Yeah?” he said, answering.

“Hey. Lead on the Miller case. Just saw him walking into a strip club.” His dad's voice graveled through the phone.

“Uh, he owns a strip club,” Jason replied.

“It wasn't his. It was Dollies, down on Forty-Ninth South.”

Interesting.
“Okay, I'll… Shit. I'm downtown at a fundraiser.”

“A date?”

Jason almost said “sort of”, but caught himself in case Lucas was close. “Yeah. At Hardwin Hotel.”

“Be there in fifteen,” his dad said.

“Got it.” Now, Jason just needed to find his date.