On the Ropes (2 page)

“You sure?”

She nodded. “I just need to take a couple of pills and soak in a hot bath.” The thought of being naked in close proximity to him reminded her of why she’d traveled to the U.S. in the first place. While seeking out her mother had been her excuse for coming, having sex with Stephen was the
reason
she had. Saying yes to no-strings sex didn’t require bravery. Reconnecting with a woman who might not want anything to do with her, though—Janette still hadn’t worked up the courage for that. She was hoping to find it sometime during the coming week with Stephen.

“We’ll get you squared away at the house.” He tipped the suitcase onto the wheels and pulled her and it toward the crosswalk.

She liked having her hand in his. She wouldn’t have thought it possible given how much she hated having people in her proximity, but for some reason, she was fine with him breaching her little bubble. He felt safe.

“I thought you were going to meet me at baggage claim,” he said. “I was there for about twenty minutes watching all the suitcases bob past on the conveyor belt, and then there were none left. I was starting to think you didn’t make the flight.”

“Oh…” was all she could say as they moved toward the short-term parking deck.

The past week had been a blur. At the same time Stephen had made his most recent request for her to visit him in the U.S., she’d received news from the private investigator she’d hired that her mother wasn’t dead—that she
hadn’t
succumbed to the car accident they’d both been in. It’d been a hit and run, just like the asshole with that suitcase.

All Janette had wanted to know was where her mother was buried and whether the end of her life had been comfortable. After weeks of dead ends, the investigator decided to try a new tactic. He searched for the living, instead of the deceased, and found Melony Bryan in an assisted living facility.

That was all Janette knew.

And that was why Janette said
yes
to Stephen. She needed an excuse to be this close to her mother, because fear would have kept her back in Bermuda and wishing she’d stayed ignorant.

She didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but they stopped behind a parked SUV—Massachusetts plate—and he opened the hatch.

He rearranged his own luggage along with a couple of crates of what looked like emergency supplies, and wedged her suitcase in on its side.

She felt her forehead furrow as the realization sank in. “You haven’t been down to the house yet?”

“No, not yet. I got hung up on a case yesterday. Ended up missing my flight last night and couldn’t get another, so I decided to drive. I got here at around four. It was already too late for me to head down there, so I waited here until your flight came in.”

“Oh. You must be as tired as I am.”

“Probably.”

Stephen and his sister co-owned a vacation home somewhere on the North Carolina Outer Banks, and that’s where he was taking her. Supposedly, it was right on the beach in some sparsely-populated place, and Janette craved that isolation away from strangers and way-too-many-tourists. Maybe she could find a few moments of safe solitude.

Stephen had invited her to stay at his home in Boston numerous times in the past year, but she’d said no every single time. It wasn’t because she didn’t
want
to, because
fuck
, he was a catch if any man was. It was because she hadn’t trusted herself with him.

She thought she knew what he wanted from her, and it wasn’t white-picket-fence domesticity. A man like him had to be a player. She’d pegged him as one from the moment he’d walked into her resort’s lobby a year ago. She could see it in his cocky smile and hear it in his deep, confident voice. It was obvious that she’d be just a hard-won conquest for him—that each “no” spurred him on more.

Well, she was sick of saying no when she hadn’t really wanted to in the first place.

She’d use him as much as he was using her. He wanted sex—
fine
. She wanted a distraction. He’d be just that until she drummed up enough courage to visit her mother. His cock would certainly help clear the muddled mire of anxiety and self-doubt that had been a heavy weight on her chest for weeks.

What if her mother didn’t know her? Didn’t want her?

Well, Stephen did. At least her
body
. Right now, that was just enough.

He let the door down and gestured to the passenger side of the SUV. “Do you want to drive straight down or stop for dinner?”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“I just bet you could.”
Shit.
She closed her eyes and suppressed a groan. He’d been nothing but a gentleman since he’d picked her up off that sidewalk, and he probably would have kept on being that way. The innuendo was out, and no way would she be able to get it back into its box. Stephen could write a four-sentence e-mail and leave her wondering whether he was talking about his dick or what he had for dinner.

He chuckled, and the door closed.

She opened her eyes and a moment later, he was getting in on the driver’s side and still smiling.

What could she say? That she didn’t
mean
it that way? She’d be lying if she did. She’d fantasized many a night about pulling his face between her legs and keeping him clamped between her thighs until he tongued her to oblivion. But, that had been his fault.

He’d once told her during one of his visits to the resort that she was too uptight. He’d leaned across her counter and put his lips as close to her ear as he dared, and said, “I can fix that, if you’d like. All you need is a massage.”

“A massage sounds lovely.” She’d cleared her throat and tamped some papers together as if his presence wasn’t bothering her at all, but the moment his breath ticked her earlobe, she’d soaked her panties.

No one was watching, so he’d given her ear a quick flick with his tongue before whispering, “I meant with my tongue. You know where.”

He’d winked at her, and walked away—probably back to his suite.

That had been the nature of their relationship all along. He’d tease. She’d let him. If she gave him an inch, he took a mile, but never went any further than she wanted.

He may have been a player, but evidently, she liked games just as much. The game she played was called
hard to get
.

Janette said nothing more until Stephen had nudged the vehicle onto the highway. Although it was nearly eight o’clock, and the sun hung low over the horizon, the road was packed with cars. Traffic moved at a glacial pace. She didn’t remember this about her home country.

Drumming her fingertips on her knees, she peered out her window and tried to place the sites. She was in
America
again, after all this time. She’d expected to feel some sense of familiarity upon landing in her country of birth—to feel like she was finally
home
after being disconnected for so long.

Well, she didn’t know what she felt. She couldn’t feel anything through her anxiety. Although Stephen had put her at ease for a few short minutes, the big block of ice that had been living in her belly for the past few weeks reminded her it was still there. Rubbing her arms, she suddenly felt cold and out of sorts. She was a woman without a place to belong. A buoy anchored to nothing. Maybe she was grasping at straws in coming here, but she couldn’t help her desperation. Human beings were meant to have tribes. Where was hers?

“Hey.” Stephen reached over and rubbed the left arm she was chafing. His touch ignited a pleasurable cascade down her arm and into her core.

God, his touch.

He may very well be too much for her. If mere dreams of the man had her coming in her sleep, what would the real deal Stephen Scott be like? She might not survive what he had planned for her.

“Air conditioner too high for you?” he asked. “The fan is pretty aggressive, but remember, I’m a Yankee. I’ve got to re-acclimate to the humidity.”

“Oh.” She clenched her thighs to taper her pussy’s incessant thrum and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice it was on.”

“Hmm.” He let the subject drop with that, but she couldn’t help but to notice he turned off the air and let his window down a few inches.

“We’re about ninety minutes away from Kitty Hawk,” he said. “Being near the end of summer, it’s the busy season on the beach, but it’s a small place so there aren’t going to be many choices for dining. Could probably order a pizza if there’s nothing good at the house. All I have in my emergency kit are granola bars. Shit.” He thumped the steering wheel with the fleshy parts of his fists. “I don’t know if there are any supplies at the house. In fact, I don’t even know when the last time Meg was there. If it’s been empty for a while, we’re going to have to go shopping. I hate shopping.”

“Really? I love it.” Now a bit more at ease, she drew her legs up under her bottom, and fixed her long skirt around her. “But, I probably shop a bit differently than you do. You probably fill your fridge once per week, right?”

He grimaced and grunted. “If that. I usually eat on the go.”

“Ah. My schedule has been fairly fixed for the past few years. No surprises, no overtime. Most days, I stop by the small market near my apartment building and pick up whatever’s fresh. Carrying the one little bag home is easy.”

“So, you cook for yourself every day?”

“Maybe not
cooking
, but certainly preparing something, even if it’s just a sandwich or a salad.”

“Sandwiches, I can do. Everything else requires more attention than I’m able to give.”

“You need to stop taking so much work home.”

He scoffed—a derisive sound that shouldn’t have been so damned sexy. Pretty much everything the man did was sexy. He was an abomination.

“Oh, it’s not just work, sweetheart. I got diagnosed with ADHD when I was four. I had my parents going gray by the time Meg was born about six years later. Trust me, I’m much more attentive now than I was when I was a kid, but I still have compulsions to move around if I’ve been working on the same task for too long. If a dish has more than a few ingredients and the recipe has too many fucking words, I’ll probably skip it.”

ADHD. She’d heard once that people with the disorder tended to be very intense. Maybe that accounted for some of the energy she was getting from him. “How on Earth did you get through law school?”

“Beating the shit out of people.” He grinned.

She sat gaping and waited for him to recant that.

He didn’t.

But, shit, she should have known better. He was the straightest shooting man she’d ever known. Innuendo aside, he always said what he meant—he wasn’t a “just joking” kind of guy.

She worked her thumb over the piped leather trim of her seat. “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but…do I even want to know?”

“I’ll put it this way.” He merged the SUV onto 168. The road was a bit more open, and he was finally able to get the vehicle up to a cruising speed. “I tried getting the ants out of my pants a lot of different ways when I was a teenager. It was evident to my parents from pretty early on that if they wore me out physically, my concentration improved. I played tennis, lacrosse…”

“Lah-di-dah.” She laughed and made a little swirling motion with her hand. Her anxiety ebbed a bit more. Being with him had been just what the doctor ordered.

“Oh, yes, I forgot. In your line of work, you only have to
pretend
to like rich people.”

Being a concierge at a five-star resort, she’d been a witness to wealth. She’d just never had any hands-on experience with it herself.

Not even close.

She turned to look at him, and sat stupefied for a moment, just taking him in. She’d never really had a chance to look at him without him looking back and unnerving the shit out of her with his intensity. Strong jaw. Not too square, but covered with that damned stubble she wasn’t sure she liked. Full, kissable lips. Aristocratic nose. Deep-set eyes accented by thick, groomed brows some woman must have seen to.

Her teeth grated.

“Oh, fuck. You’re giving me the screw-face, already? Come on, Jan. Cut me some slack.” His laughter pulled her out of her unfamiliar jealously, and she noticed now he was looking at her.

She faced her window again and drew her fingers through her recently-shorn hair. Getting used to not having hair to fidget was taking some time. “Sorry. It probably wasn’t for what you’re thinking.” She had no damn business being jealous, anyway. She’d convinced herself that this was just about sex—a distraction. What was it to her if he engaged with other women?

“I don’t have any particular aversion to wealth,” she said. “Just to certain types of wealthy people. I see a lot of eccentric characters in my line of work.”

“I bet.”

“So, tennis and lacrosse, huh? Were you any good?”

“I was all right, but I just wasn’t that into it. Plus, I didn’t really click with my teammates.”

“Why not?”

The smile he’d been wearing pretty much from the moment he’d picked her up finally drew in. “Let’s just say we had some personality conflicts. Anyway, I did find a better fit. I used to do peer tutoring at a community center in our town. The boy I was paired with went to the local public school.”

“In other words, not rich.”

“Not even close. Honestly, he was the most genuine person I’d met to that point. He was so fucking brilliant with art. If he got a can of spray paint into his hands, he could create some seriously mind-blowing stuff you wouldn’t think was possible with such unrefined tools. But, he couldn’t add or subtract to save his life.”

His smile returned, and she breathed out a relieved exhale. She was surprised his small changes in mood affected her so much. Then again, he’d never really exposed her to them before. They’d never really talked like this, alone and face-to-face. It was much different than being on two sides of the concierge stand or different ends of an e-mail exchange.

“He seemed to be sticking around overlong after our session one day, and I asked him if he needed a ride or something. I was pretty sure my mother would have driven him home. Turned out, he took boxing lessons every Thursday night right there in the center. I was curious, so I sat in on the workout for a while. The next week, I was back with a pair of gloves of my own.”