The Stranger Next Door (9 page)

Chapter Nine

He knew exactly what she was doing. He might not be a cop, but he knew an interrogation when he heard it. Not that he minded. If she was curious about him, that was at least a step in the right direction.

“No.” He smiled. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in a very long time, and even then I lived alone. I just never found someone I had those kinds of feelings for. I know that sounds bad, but I couldn’t bring myself to take that step with someone I didn’t have deep feelings for.”

“Oh,” she said casually, closing the dishwasher.

“What about you?”

Stiffening, she glanced at him with surprise before schooling her features.

“No.”

So that’s how she wanted to play it.
She wanted to know all the answers and yet give none in return. He could play that game … for a while.

“Have you ever been married?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Drying his hands, he leaned his hips back against the counter and looked out the window across the room. Dusk lingered on the horizon. With summer wrapping up and fall fast approaching, the days seemed to be growing shorter. Before long it would begin to turn cold. An image of he and Tess curled up in front of her fireplace formed in his mind. The thought of Tess circled in his arms, her soft skin pressed firmly against his chest sent a wave of undeniable arousal coursing through him.

“Jack?”

Shaking the image from his head, he peered at Tess.

“I haven’t found the right woman,” he answered honestly. “Not to mention, with my job, I didn’t really have time for anything like that.”

He watched as she tapped her chin once with the tip of her finger.

“You said didn’t. Does that mean you’ve decided not to work anymore?” She turned and started toward the living area.

Remembering their earlier conversation about their careers, he understood her curiosity.

“No, I’ve been thinking and finally decided I’ll work, just not in the field anymore. I think it’s about time.” He followed her into the living room then made himself comfortable on the sofa next to her.

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.

Settling himself more comfortably against the soft cushions, he turned to meet her inquiring gaze. “When I started out, I had every intention of one day being able to work from an office or, better yet, home, instead of out in the field. Now I can. My partner, Robbie, loves being on the hunt, so I’ve decided he and two others who work for me will start doing the stakeouts and fieldwork. I’m calling Robbie later tonight to let him know my final decision, but I don’t think he’ll be surprised.”

She nodded.

“How long have you been a PI?”

“Since I was twenty-five.”

“Why didn’t you become a cop?”

That was always the question. When he said he was a private investigator, the first question people asked was, why not a cop?

Propping his elbow on the back of the sofa, he leaned his head against his fist and smiled.

“I was always good at sneaking around and getting the info I needed, be it where Christmas presents were being hidden or other things, like who stole little Timmy’s bike. I don’t have anything against cops, but I just had no desire to become one.”

Her expression grew slightly serious before clearing, as if she’d been lost in a moment’s thought. He could only imagine what was running around in that head of hers.

“Do you like your job?” she asked suddenly.

“I like it well enough, I guess,” he answered honestly, “but, like I said, I don’t want to go back out in the field. I’ll work from home, making arrangements and whatnot, but that’s all. I just feel I need to settle down a little.”

Turning more fully toward him, she raised a brow. “How did you go from just being on vacation to deciding you want to stop working in the field?”

“I’d intended to only take a vacation. But part of this vacation was to help me see things more clearly. To figure out if settling down was what I really wanted to do after bouncing around for so long. Not to mention, I really love my new house. I hadn’t planned on buying it, but I had to have it.”

He motioned toward the window. “I’m right where I belong. I’ve found other things I’m interested in besides work recently … other things I’d like to try.”

Gazing at her intently, he watched as she digested all he’d just told her and knew the moment she grasped the meaning of his words.

A slight blush rose to her cheeks as she struggled to find her voice, another question, another excuse to change the subject she’d started, but he wasn’t letting her off that easy.

He’d had enough of the questions. He didn’t like talking about his job. It brought up too many bad memories of cheating spouses and deceit. Right now, all he wanted to think about was the delectable little woman in front of him, her plump, tempting lips, and how they would feel gliding against his.

Reaching out slowly, he tentatively touched her face, trailing his thumb across her cheekbone. When she didn’t immediately pull away, he slid his hand to the nape of her neck and gently pulled her forward.

He knew he was moving too fast and would likely frighten her away, but he’d never been one to be cautious. He’d yearned for her, through libidinous dreams and the memory of heated looks. He couldn’t go another minute without tasting her.

Leaning close, their lips mere inches from each other; he met her deep blue eyes. Her lids lowered as she regarded him sensually from under a tangle of thick, black lashes.

Blood rushed in his veins. His heart pounded as he fought the desire tumbling through him, urging him to haul her against his chest, press her back into the cushions, and take what he wanted.

Gathering his wits, he smothered the relentless need coursing through him and took a deep calming breath.

He’d never wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Tess, and it scared him. But he needed just one taste, just one kiss to ease the need filling him.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, her voice the barest whisper as she raised her hand to hold his hand at her neck in place, as if she needed that contact to anchor her in some way.

“Because it won’t be the last time you find yourself in my arms.”

“What if I say it is?” she whispered.

He could feel her need as keenly as if it were his own. Her breath came in short puffs, almost panting as she gazed up at him. She wanted him, perhaps needed him as desperately as he needed her. She was trying to fight what she felt; he could see it in the depths of her eyes, could hear it in her voice.

Smiling, he tightened his grip on her nape. Wrapping his other arm around her waist, he pulled her tight against his chest. Her breath caught, held, as he splayed his hand against her back, pressing her breasts flush against his hard chest. She responded to him hot and fast as her nipples budded tight against him through the thin material of her t-shirt. Goosebumps dotted her skin as she blushed with desire.

Slipping his hand just under the hem of her shirt, the soft skin of her back like silk beneath his fingertips, he fought to suppress a groan.

“You won’t.”

*

The moment his lips touched hers, she was lost, caught up in a whirlwind of red-hot passion.

The feel of his firm lips pressed against hers sent a shiver down her spine. She melted like butter in the sun against him, against the rock hard chest pressed so adamantly against hers.

His fingers found their way into her hair, where they wrapped in the raven tresses to tilt her head and deepen the kiss. When she felt his tongue slip in to rub suggestively against her own, she couldn’t contain the sigh that slid past her lips.

Threading her fingers through his hair, the soft-as-silk strands beneath her palms sent chills across her overheated skin.

She’d been kissed before but never like this. Never had there been this much heat, this much desire behind the act, and never had she been swept away so easily by just the sound of a man’s wicked promises. But that’s exactly what happened. She knew he was right. This wouldn’t be the only passionate embrace they’d share.

There was too much in his voice, in the hard expression he wore as he made that promise to believe otherwise.

If he were to press her further, she’d allow him whatever liberty he wanted, and that frightened her, but not enough to make her stop. Not nearly enough to make her push his warm mouth from hers, to force the fire-hot palm from the small of her back where it played teasingly.

They were lost on a sea of desire.

As Jack held her to him tightly, she felt the beating of his heart against her sensitive breasts. Riding the waves of pleasure his kiss sent crashing over her, she clung to him as though he were her only lifeline in a hurricane.

Without breaking the kiss, he lowered his hands. Gripping her waist, he pulled her over to straddle his lap.

They were moving too fast, but she couldn’t find the strength to stop. This, being with Jack on such an intimate level, felt so right. How could she ask him to stop when she didn’t want to?

She was a grown woman, not a child. She needed this, needed what Jack had to offer, and she would take it. If it ended badly, then that was a chance she’d have to take, but right now, only one thing existed. Jack.

Settling herself onto him fully, she felt the length of his erection pressing hard and insistent against her aching core.

She gasped as Jack slid his slightly calloused hand beneath the hem of her shirt, over her stomach and then to her breast, where he squeezed then kneaded and teased through the silky material of her bra. He drove her wild with his intoxicating kiss before surging up gently, thrusting his manhood against her erotically.

“Tess, are you home?” Patrice’s voice carried through the door.

They froze. Tension sizzled hot and heavy in the air between them.

“Come on, Tess, I saw your car in the driveway. Open the damn door, this stuff’s heavy!”

Drawing a deep breath, Tess peered down into the fathomless pools of Jack’s radiant blue eyes.

“We have to stop,” she said quietly. Where she found the strength to do so was beyond her. They’d been as good as lost before the interruption.

Swallowing thickly, Jack slipped his hand from her breast before lowering her shirt, smoothing it back into place gently.

“A friend of yours?” he asked breathlessly with a small smile as the knocking on the door turned into a pounding.

“Yes.” She chuckled as Jack helped her to her feet. “Hang on!” Tess yelled, then laughed quietly. “I forgot she was coming over tonight. She was supposed to bring some tile samples for the kitchen and bathrooms.”

Smiling, Jack leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He smiled. “I need to make some calls.”

Nodding, she walked beside him to the stairs, only now realizing he still wore the pink apron he’d donned while cooking, and the sight made her grin.

At the base of the stairs, Jack grabbed her hand and kissed the tender skin of her wrist.

She took a quick, calming breath as the look in his eyes told her more than any words ever could. She had no doubt they would end up right back where they’d been moments before—wrapped in each other’s arms, silently begging for everything the other had to give, and willing to give everything they had in return.

“Aren’t you going upstairs?”

“I want to make sure she’s alone. Can’t take any chances, you know?”

Nodding with understanding, she jogged to the door, grabbed the knob, and hauled it open.

“What the hell took so long? I’ve been out here forever,” Patrice complained from behind a plethora of boxes of all shapes and sizes.

Tess laughed. “Sorry, I’ve been a little busy.”

Taking some of the boxes from her friend’s hands, she led Patrice into the entry. A giggle bubbled past her lips when Patrice froze in her tracks. A look of complete shock and curiosity twisted Patrice’s features as Jack immediately moved forward to take some of the heavy boxes.

Of course, Tess couldn’t blame her friend’s reaction. A shirtless Jack in a pink apron was quite the sight to see.

Her hands full of boxes, Tess nodded toward Jack. “This is Jackson Blake. Jack, this is my friend, Patrice Monroe.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Patrice,” he said politely, juggling boxes to extend his hand.

With wide brown eyes, Patrice shook the proffered hand then turned back to Tess.

“Damn, Tess, what maid service are you using?”

Chapter Ten

“I should’ve known something was up,” Patrice said with conviction as she ran the box cutter over the thick, brown tape holding the box closed. “I’m just a receptionist in that place, but I know when something’s going on. I should’ve called you. I’d seen it in the papers but didn’t realize…”

“And what would you have said? Someone found a dead woman? That kind of thing happens every day, especially in the city. We live in New York, for crying out loud. It wouldn’t have done me a bit of good. Besides, Melanie’s death and my attempted kidnapping have absolutely nothing to do with each other.”

Pulling out a small tile, Tess held it up against the backdrop over the kitchen sink and eyed it with interest.

“I guess you're right,” Patrice murmured, “but I wish you had a better idea of who tried to kidnap you.”

“Me too,” Tess agreed wearily. “I just don’t have a clue who it could be. At first I thought it was most likely a random attempt. Perhaps some pervert saw me outside and decided he was going to take me out and rape and murder me then throw me in the river or something. You know yourself those things happen all the time, but the more I think about it, I don’t think that’s the case. They said ‘let’s get her to the old man.’ What the hell did that mean? And who’s the old man?”

Shaking her head, Patrice frowned. “I don’t know, but I’m with you on that one. It doesn’t sound like something that was done randomly. Whoever this old man is, it’s obvious he wants to talk to you.”

Placing the tile back into the box gently, Tess removed another piece of a brighter color and repeated her earlier action.

“I just wish I knew what it was about. It’s not like I know any big secrets or anything.”

“Hmm, there’s no telling what this guy wants,” Patrice said with a shake of her head. “So, what’s the deal with Mr. Clean?” she asked, changing the subject.

Unable to contain a burst of laughter, Tess turned back to Patrice. “You mean Jack?”

When Patrice nodded, Tess let her laughter die slowly and shook her head. “I don’t know any more about that situation than I do the one we were just discussing.” She eyed the tile then tossed her hands into the air. “I don’t like this one either; it’s too green.”

Nodding her agreement, Patrice handed her a different color. “Yeah, it looks like baby poop. Try this one.”

Taking the tile her friend offered, Tess moved to the backdrop and studied the tile.

“Well,” Patrice began thoughtfully as she rummaged through the jungle of boxes between them, “what do you know about this Jack fellow? What does he do? How’d the two of you meet?”

Giving up on the tile, Tess groaned and moved back to take a seat at the table across from her friend.

For a moment, she contemplated skating around the subject of Jack, but after what had just happened on the sofa, and his promises for later, she decided another woman’s, especially Patrice’s, perspective might not hurt. Patrice had no problem laying it out like it was … or how she saw it, at least. Perhaps she could help Tess see things in a different light.

“We met a couple of days ago when I was outside shutting off the water,” she hedged.

It was the truth, maybe not the whole truth, but she saw no reason to disclose that she’d been completely naked at the time of said meeting. She knew Patrice and her fun-loving nature. The onslaught of ribbing that would stem from reciting the details of such a story would be never-ending.

“And?” Patrice urged impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, Tess leaned back in her chair and peered out over the many samples. She was beginning to think she’d never find the right tile for her kitchen. Nothing seemed to fit. Picking up several rows of small, multi-colored glass tiles, she peered at a piece of clear blue glass and smiled. It reminded her of Jack’s glittering blue gaze.

“Earth to Tess.”

Meeting Patrice’s inquiring gaze, she shrugged and returned to the question at hand.

“He’s lived in the house across the street for about two weeks, and he’s a private investigator.”

Patrice regarded her sardonically.

Patrice was a pretty woman, standing around five-foot three, with a slim build, bright green eyes, and sandy blonde hair. She was the kind of woman who had a gaggle of men nipping at her heels and with no idea why, as she didn’t realize how attractive she was.

And she wasn’t one to pull her punches. If Tess was holding back, Patrice knew it, and she got to the bottom of it before Tess knew what was happening. She could be a master interrogator if she only wanted to, not to mention, she had enough sarcasm to supply the entire United States and most of Canada.

“What?” Tess asked, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights.

“That’s it?” Patrice arched a brow with disbelief. “That’s all you know about him, and yet, he’s staying here with you to protect you?”

Tess frowned. “That about sums it up. I trust him.”

Patrice tapped her full bottom lip with the tip of her finger before looking back to her curiously. “Come on, Tess, what’s really going on with the two of you? I’ve known you a long time and never once have you gone out with a guy you knew so little about. But now you're living with someone, and you know little more than his name? What gives?”

Tess understood where her friend was coming from. She’d asked herself the same questions and was yet to find answers for her actions.

Placing her elbows on the table, Tess leaned forward and held her forehead in her hands.

“I have no idea,” she conceded wearily. “One minute I'm hiding here like a hermit, and the next, I'm straddling some stranger on the couch like a horny teenager. To be honest with you, I think I'm losing my mind.”

That got Patrice's attention, as her eyes widened and a mischievous smile lit her face.

“Wait, you never mentioned straddling Mr. Clean,” she teased.

“I didn’t think it was important.”

Patrice chuckled for a moment then sighed and became as close to serious someone as lighthearted as she could get. “Never leave out the straddling; that’s always important,” she said. “Do you feel something for the man?”

“What?” Tess asked with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“I’m serious, Tess. Do you feel something for Jack?”

Leaning back in her chair, Tess raised her brows and shrugged. “I barely know the man. How could I feel something for him?”

This time, it was Patrice who leaned back in her chair and raised her brows.

“Don’t play coy with me, Tess. You know as well as I do time doesn’t matter when you meet the one.”

“And you think Jack’s the one for me? That’s asinine. I do feel something for him, but it’s nothing more than simple lust. A good roll in the hay should cure that.”

Patrice looked at her as though she didn’t believe a single word Tess had just uttered. Tess couldn’t blame her. The moment she’d said the words, she started to question herself.

“I don’t know about all that,” Patrice said finally, “but I do know this. Before you met Jack, you wouldn’t even think about going on a date with a man without running a background check first. Even then you would’ve put up one hell of a fight before you let him stay here to protect you, no matter what the captain said.”

Standing up, Patrice downed the last of her coffee and pulled the strap of her handbag over her shoulder.

“You need to take a good, hard look at why you gave in to him so easily. You might be surprised what you discover.”

Tess let her friend’s words roll over her for a moment longer before looking up. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, it’s close to midnight, and I gotta work a couple hours in the morning. I’ll come by sometime tomorrow and take some more of these samples back to the store for you.”

“Sounds good.” Tess smiled. “You’ve been a big help.”

Patrice smiled, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and grabbed a couple of boxes. “What are friends for?”

Standing, Tess followed her to the door and switched on the porch light.

Patrice had given her a lot to think about. Too bad she was too tired to give it the consideration it deserved.

Did she feel something for Jack?
At first, she’d thought it was just simple lust. After all, it’d been so long since she’d been with a man, and Jack was, by far, the best-looking man she’d ever seen. But now, she couldn’t help but wonder. Would desire be strong enough to make her capitulate so easily? The feeling was strong, but was it that strong?

Snapping out of her deep thoughts, she called out to Patrice, “Be careful and call me when you get home.” She’d already lost one friend, and she wanted to make sure the one she had left was safe.

Stepping off the bottom step, Patrice turned with a smile and nodded. “I will, and when I come by tomorrow, I’ll be sure to knock.”

Narrowing her eyes with question, Tess asked, “Why?”

Laughing out loud this time, Patrice grinned. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt another round of tonsil hockey.”

Shaking her head at Patrice’s antics, Tess watched as her friend got into her car, backed out of the drive, and disappeared into the darkness of night.

Closing and locking the door, Tess turned and gazed at the staircase before her. Jack was in his room.
Was he waiting for her? Was he aching for her as she was for him or was he regretting his earlier actions?

While Tess wanted to keep her distance from him in case their interaction put him in danger, she couldn’t. Jack was a treasure she didn’t want to relinquish. A hot, heavy ache settled once again between her thighs. She squeezed her legs together.

What would it hurt if she went to him? One of two things would happen. He would welcome her or he would reject her. Either way, she’d know what was what between them.

Decision made, she took the stairs two at a time in her rush to be wrapped in Jack’s arms once again.

Padding quietly across the thick runner rug stretching the length of the hallway, she approached Jack’s door and raised her hand to knock, but Jack’s muffled voice caused her to pause.

Listening closely, she dropped her hand and sighed.

He was on the phone, most likely helping his partner with a case.

While she wanted desperately to go to him, knock the phone from his hands, and give him the full cowgirl treatment, she knew she couldn’t. He’d been helping her, and not once had she thought about the neglect he could be giving to his job and partner.

Turning, she crossed the hall and trudged into her room. She needed a cold shower, and a little more sleep, as she was obviously not thinking too clearly if she was contemplating attacking the man for her own sexual pleasure.