Street Game (14 page)

“I had to find a place for my business and there’s work here. I wasn’t exactly hiding. In the end, you would have found me.”

Kane unexpectedly reached across the counter and flicked her chin. “Don’t ever disappear like that again, you hear me, Jaimie?”

She nodded solemnly. “I won’t. I have a business now. I’ll be easy to find.”

“Is this Spaghetti person . . .”

“Spagnola,” Jaimie corrected, trying to scowl.

“Whatever. Is he married?”

“Kane, really, does it matter?” When he was silent she shot him an exasperated glare and slid from the barstool. “No, Joe is not married. What difference would it make?”

“Probably the difference between life and death,” Kane muttered.

“Excuse me?” Jaimie said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“It would make Mack feel better,” Kane substituted prudently.

“Yeah, right. He’d just think Joe was out for an extramarital affair.”

Kane laughed softly. “Most likely you’re right about that. He isn’t the most easygoing guy where you’re concerned.”

“That’s putting it mildly and you’re almost as bad.” Jaimie opened the refrigerator and scowled at the contents. “Maybe we should go out for breakfast.”

“What do you usually eat for breakfast?” Kane inquired.

She slammed the door with unnecessary force. “Coffee. I’m usually too busy to eat.”

“The Spaghetti guy arrives at ten and you don’t have the time to eat?” Kane’s eyebrow shot up. “Lazy little thing.”

“I am not,” Jaimie denied indignantly. “I have all kinds of things to do. I’m usually up by seven. And don’t call Joe ‘the Spaghetti guy.’ Sometimes we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, which is why there is meat in my refrigerator, smart one.”

Kane groaned. “I suggest you keep good old Joe away from Mack.
Don’t
tell Mack you eat with this clown on a regular basis. And try not to say his name in that syrupy voice.”

“I don’t say his name syrupy.”

“Yes, you do. All soft and dreamy. And your voice changes when you talk to him. Mack is going to throw him out on his ass if you keep it up.”

“Mack will have to learn some manners.” Jaimie flounced across the room to the bed, Kane on her heels. “And Joe might not be so easy to throw out.”

Kane straightened slowly from where he was bending to help her make her bed. “Jaimie . . .” he began. “You aren’t blind. He’s not going to let another man into your life.”

“Joe is a friend. And it’s not Mack’s business anymore, now, is it, Kane?” Jaimie said, sticking her chin out. “He let me go. He doesn’t get to just walk back into my life and think things are going to be the same.”

“Hey!” Mack emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, steam escaping all around him. His chest and feet were bare, creating a mood of intimacy. “You two all right? You look like you’re arguing.”

“Don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Jaimie demanded.

He smirked at her. “Bothers you, does it? Kind of takes your breath away?”

Jaimie rolled her eyes. “You probably spent the last fifteen minutes staring at yourself in the mirror.” For a moment he actually had taken her breath away and she was certain Kane knew it. He’d been standing close enough to hear her swift indrawn breath and now he was grinning ear to ear. She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t say a word.”

Kane held up his hands in surrender, ruined it by winking, walked around her, slapped Mack on the back, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Mack tossed his towel aside and took a step toward Jaimie. Her head came up, eyes suddenly wary. Mack smiled when she stepped backward. The bed caught the back of her knees and she sat down rather abruptly. The move brought her eye level with the undone top button of Mack’s jeans. She blushed for no reason at all, her eyes traveling up his narrow hips, the muscle-cut stomach, to his heavily developed chest.

“This is silly, Mack. Get some clothes on.” Her mouth had gone so dry it was difficult to speak normally.

“I have clothes on.” He stepped close enough for her to feel his body heat. He pulled the makeshift turban from her head and gently began to rub her hair with the towel.

He was so close Jaimie was forced to close her eyes. It didn’t seem to matter, he filled her vision anyway. He smelled of spicy aftershave mingled with his clean, masculine scent. Beneath her long lashes she could glimpse every defined muscle of his chest and arms, the way the hair on his chest grew down in a fine V to disappear into his jeans. His hands were evoking all kinds of sensations Jaimie didn’t care to remember.

She stood it as long as she could before clenching her teeth and reaching up to capture his wrists. “I’m perfectly capable of drying my own hair.”

His wrists were so thick, Jaimie couldn’t get a good grip on him and he merely twisted his arm so that her hands fell free. “I know you can. I’ve always liked doing it. You have beautiful hair.”

His words triggered warm memories of Mack down on one knee, wiping tears from Jaimie’s face, brushing back strands of muddy hair, assuring her they could make her hair beautiful again with a quick shampoo. She found herself smiling. “You’ve always said that, even when I was a little girl.”

“It’s true, I love your hair.” Mack tossed the towel aside and began using his fingers, tunneling through damp strands to pick it dry.

It seemed far worse with his fingers than with the towel, much more intimate. Jaimie could barely breathe, every nerve ending alive, a hot ember coiling, growling in the pit of her stomach, spreading discontent, spreading need. His jean-clad knee brushed against her shoulder. Something deep and feminine, hot and demanding, unleashed inside of her. Without conscious thought, her hand curled around his calf muscle. A connection.

The moment she touched him, she knew it was a mistake. His body was hard and hot and so inviting, and memories flooded in. She had loved him so much, had been so proud that he’d been hers. And he’d thrown her away for his adrenaline rush.

Mack’s body went taut, every muscle contracting. The heat licking up his leg was like flames, each running hotter and faster than the last until he was consumed with it. For one moment his fists bunched in her hair, the physical need so great he shook with the craving, but then she let go. He heard her breath hitch.

Abruptly he released her, turned away quickly to move stiffly to the bar. Kane was a blessing and a curse. Mack wanted to be alone with Jaimie, needed to be alone with her, but he didn’t dare. His hand was a little bit unsteady when he poured his coffee.

Jaimie sat very still, her heart pounding somewhere between alarm, anticipation, and frustration. There was no mistaking Mack’s body’s sudden urgent demand and the ensuing struggle to control his desire. For a moment, she had been afraid he was going to toss her on the bed and take her right there. For a moment she had wanted him to. She touched her tongue to her lips and forced herself to take charge.

“Kane and I were discussing going out to eat.” Jaimie tested her voice cautiously. Her tone might have been a tiny bit more husky than normal, but she could live with it. “What do you think?”

Mack smiled, pure male and taunting. “I think you’re a little coward, honey, that’s what I think.”

The way he said “honey” was caressing, almost tender. It was disarming and totally unfair. Jaimie stayed on the bed with space separating them, feeling it was far safer. He still had a predatory gleam in his eye. “We’re discussing breakfast: Go out or stay in. Vote.”

“I’d rather vote on other things.”

“As usual, you’re not making a bit of sense. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

He swung back toward her, a quick movement of power and grace, his black eyes devouring her face. Jaimie’s heart lurched wildly. He came across the floor like a stalking jungle cat. She couldn’t move, frozen to the spot, reaching behind her for the windowsill for support. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Mack stopped inches from her, his hand grasping her chin firmly. “I know exactly why you put up with me,” he drawled softly, his eyes holding hers captive, his thumb stroking across her full bottom lip.

Jaimie jerked her head away, small teeth snapping at his thumb. “I’m glad one of us does.” She crossed her arms protectively across her chest, trying to ignore the way her treacherous body remembered his. Her heart remembered the pain of loving him. “Fortunately, Kane is out of the shower and has saved your life.” She pushed around him, forcing herself not to run. It took a great deal of control to walk away from him when anger and hurt and love warred with one another.

CHAPTER 6

Kane waved a forkful of biscuits and gravy in Jaimie’s direction to emphasize his point. “That little blueberry muffin is not exactly nutritious, Little Miss Nag. And it wouldn’t fill up my big toe.”

“Chicken-fried steak, biscuits, and all that gravy ought to shoot your cholesterol level right up to the moon.” Jaimie was all righteousness. Her vivid blue gaze pinned Mack, who was trying unsuccessfully to become part of the woodwork. “And no one eats four eggs. That’s your week’s worth in one sitting. We all studied nutrition, remember?”

“You studied it and forced us to eat the most god-awful concoctions known to man,” Mack protested.

“I’m allergic to all that nutritious stuff,” Kane said soberly. “Absolutely allergic. Remember the brewer’s yeast, Mack? Didn’t she almost kill me with brewer’s yeast?”

“She killed the popcorn,” Mack remembered.

“You were smothering the popcorn in butter,” Jaimie was indignant. “Someone had to save you. Hardening of the arteries. You two are getting on in years, you know.” She smirked at them rather smugly and at the same time took a quick glance around her.

They weren’t alone. She saw Brian and Jacob having breakfast in a booth facing them just to her left. At the table nearest the door, Marc drank coffee across from Ethan, who seemed engrossed in a newspaper. She had caught a brief glimpse of Javier, looking like a teenager with his boyish good looks, and Lucas, looking like a model in a business suit, moving through the crowded street as they’d entered the restaurant.

Both Mack and Kane scowled across the table at her fiercely, hoping to intimidate her. “Getting on in what years?” Kane demanded ominously.

Jaimie broke off a small piece of blueberry muffin, unconcerned with their threatening posture—after all, she had all the boys surrounding her and presumably they were there for her protection. “It’s a fact of life. Everyone has to come to terms with aging. One should take a few precautions.”

“A few precautions sounds like an excellent idea,” Kane grumbled. “Pitching you into the ocean might be a good start.”

“I thought we might take a walk over the Golden Gate this afternoon,” Mack suggested helpfully, in complete agreement.

“You two have a disturbing penchant for violence,” she chided. “Perhaps you should see a shrink. I noticed it way back in high school. All those contact sports, football, boxing, fencing, karate.” She shook her head mournfully. “Violent.”

“We had a little vamp to protect,” Kane defended. “We had to be prepared.”

“I beg your pardon?” Icicles dripped from her voice. There was a distinctly regal look about her.

“She was never a vamp,” Mack disagreed. “But you were a beautiful innocent and every wolf for a hundred miles was stalking you.” There was a caressing note in the deep timbre of his voice. “We had to keep a close watch.”

Jaimie burst out laughing, the sound turning heads. “You’re crazy. The two of you obviously have a far different memory of our past than I do.”

The two men exchanged easy grins. “You never did see things you didn’t want to.” Kane was pleased with himself; it wasn’t easy diverting Jaimie when she was off on one of her tangents on nutrition. There was no way she hadn’t noticed the rest of the team infiltrating the restaurant to protect her. He knew she loved them all; she’d grown up with them, so she was happy to see them, but she didn’t like what they represented—violence, a way of life, the very thing she’d worked so hard to get out of. He wanted her happy, teasing, that carefree laugh and bright eyes to remain for as long as possible.

“Eat your steak, Kane,” Jaimie advised.

“Notice how she changes the subject when it gets a little hot?” Mack asked, his black gaze suggesting all sorts of wicked, sinful things.

Her stomach did that slow, familiar roll that Mack had been causing in her for far too long. She didn’t see how she was going to be able to let him live in the same house with her, seeing him every day. It wasn’t just that she found him sexy as hell; she liked him. She liked his humor and the way he could laugh at life.

“I’m eating, Mack,” she said trying to sound prim instead of desperate.

He had a gift of being able to focus just on her and no one or nothing else. He was doing it now, looking at her as if she were the only person in the world. Before, she had believed she was special and he saw no one but her. Now she knew better. She knew that focused stare was an amazing illusion. He saw everything in the restaurant, knew where every single person was seated and what they were wearing. He probably knew what they were eating.

She glanced down at her plate, suddenly not hungry again. She ached for him. Ached for their lost relationship.

He reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb sliding over the sensitive part of her wrist. “I don’t think that’s called eating.”

“Well, stop looking at me that way. There is nothing sexy about eating, and you’re looking at me like . . .” She made the mistake of looking up at him, of meeting his eyes, and just trailed off.

He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Sure there is, the way you eat.”

He leaned toward her and brought her hand to his mouth, closing his lips around the tips of her fingers, his teeth gently nipping and scraping. Heat seared through her like a flash. All at once, the booth was far too small, the room too warm.

She jerked her hand away, uncaring that he knew just how he affected her. “You have sex on the brain, Mack. Get your runaway hormones under control.” Jaimie said it looking as schoolmarmish as possible.

Kane choked on a mouthful of orange juice, turned slightly red, and looked surreptitiously around. “Jaimie!” He sounded shocked and lowered his voice, nearly whispering. “I can’t believe you said ‘sex’ or ‘hormones’ in public.”