A Passion Denied (62 page)

She swallowed hard, completely unsettled by his direct gaze. “I will. Thank you.”

He laid the ticket in front of Jack, then returned to the back to finish cleaning up. She stared at her shake and sighed. Suddenly she’d lost her appetite. With a frown puckering her brow, she pretended to sip, all the while watching farm boy wipe down the counter out of the corner of her eye. Her mood darkened. Okay, all right—she’d give him “good-looking,” but she’d bet he was dumb as a post.

“Hey, Katydid, wake up! You haven’t even touched your malt.”

The others were staring and half done with their shakes. “Sorry, Jack. Guess I’m not as hungry as I thought.”

“Did that bozo upset you? Because if he did, I’ll tell Pop he needs new help.”

“No, no, please. I’m fine, really.” She watched as Luke disappeared into the kitchen and ignored the warm shiver that traveled her spine. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

Jack shot a glance at the empty counter and grinned. “Well, we got something that just might wake you up, don’t we, boys?” He reached for the laminated menu and set it on top of his untouched glass of water, then gave her a wink. With a quick flick of his wrist, he reversed it on the table and slowly eased the menu out from beneath the upside-down glass. The water sealed perfectly, a flood waiting to gush as soon as the “kid” picked up the glass.

Katie, Lilly, and Gen gasped in unison. “Wow, how did you do that?” Gen sputtered. “Ol’ Luke’ll be madder than a wet hen when he cleans this table.”

“That’s not the only thing that’ll be wet.” Lilly giggled.

Warren and Roger grinned and followed suit, careful to keep an eye on the back room. Jack thumped Roger on the shoulder. “Move over, we’re leaving. Gotta get my best girl home.” He tugged Katie out of the booth and pulled her toward the front door.

Katie skidded to a stop, heels digging in. “Wait a minute, Jack—aren’t you going to pay for the check?”

“Nope, let Jerk Boy pay for it. That’ll teach him to be rude to my girl. Come on, guys, hurry.” He opened the door with a loud jangle of bells, and when Katie wouldn’t budge, he hoisted her up in his arms and sprinted to his Franklin Sports Coupe parked down the street.

“Jack Worthington, you stop this very instant!” Her voice rose to a shriek as she fought his hold to no avail. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears over the laughter of the group as they bolted for the car and jumped in.

“Come on, Katydid,” Jack said with a broad grin. “It’s no big deal. We’re just having a little fun. Look, I even got you a souvenir.” He plopped her in the front seat of his car and pulled her empty Coca Cola glass out of his pocket.

Her jaw dropped. She snatched the glass and shook it in his face. “Jack Worthington, you are nothing more than a brazen thief, and I will not be a party to this! Now, I am marching back there right now and—”

She darted out of the car, but he was too fast. He picked her up with a chuckle and silenced her with a sound kiss, tightening his grip when she started to scream and kick. “Aw, come on, Katydid, don’t be such a bearcat. Jerk Boy had it coming, and you know it. Now get in the car like a good girl—we gotta scram.”

“How about you scram
after
you pay the bill?” An icy tone confirmed that Jerk Boy was in the vicinity. His voice, deadly calm and barely above a whisper, packed as much heat as a threat from the lips of Al Capone.

Katie froze in Jack’s arms, which went as stiff as his pale face. With a slow turn, they faced an apron-clad Colossus of Rhodes, legs straddled and face chiseled in granite.
“Put her
down,”
he whispered in a tone as stony as his stance.

Jack lowered her to the ground and eased her behind him. “Says who?” he said with a sneer.

The soda jerk moved in close, towering over Jack by more than half a head. His rock-hard jaw, barely inches from Jack’s face, looked intimidating with a full day’s growth of blond bristle. His wide lips curved in a near smile, but the blue eyes were pure slits of ice. “Says me, you little piker.”

Jack leaned forward and jabbed a finger in the soda jerk’s chest. “Piker? Who you calling a coward, Jerk Boy? I’m not paying for anything, especially shoddy service.”

The wide smile broadened to a cocky grin. “My service may be shoddy, rich boy, but I guarantee you my thrashing won’t be. Trust me, your little girlfriend won’t like it if I mess with your face, so I suggest you pay the bill . . .” He fisted Jack’s Oxford shirt and jerked him up.
“Now.”

Genevieve screamed and Warren and Roger jumped from the car. They circled Luke with fists raised, and suddenly it was Jack’s turn to grin. “So, how’s your confidence now, eh, Jerk Boy? Think you can handle three to one?”

Katie shot from the car and shoved Jack hard in the chest. “Stop it now, or so help me—”

He pushed her aside. “Stay out of this, Katydid.”

Warren darted in with a quick swipe, and the soda jerk dodged with the grace of an athlete. His wide grin gleamed white in the lamplight as he egged them on with a wave of his fingers. “Come on, boys, I’ve lived on the streets all my life, so have at it.”

Roger lunged, and Jerk Boy felled him like a tree with a right hook to his jaw. Out of nowhere, Warren rushed from behind, leg poised in a kick. Latching onto his shoe, Jerk Boy yanked him to the pavement with a sickening thud. Katie screeched in horror. She charged forward, only to be looped at the waist by Jack, who tossed her back in the car, flailing and screaming. He turned with a loud roar and rammed his body straight for the soda jerk, head tucked like a raging bull. In a deft move of his foot, Jerk Boy tripped him and sent him skidding into the street.

“Jack!” Katie bolted out of the car and ran to his side. “Are you okay?” She helped him as he lumbered to his feet, the right trouser leg of his gray Oxford bags torn and streaked with dirt.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, doll. Just let me at that slimeball—”

“No!” She planted two petite hands on his chest and shoved him back with more force than her small size warranted. “You’re done, Jack! Do you hear me? Or we’re through.”

He staggered back, a bloody hand to his head. “Come on, Katydid, don’t talk like that—”

“I mean it, Jack, I swear.”

She whirled around, her eyes singeing all of them within an inch of their lives. “Warren, Roger—get in the car.
Now!
”

“Come on, Jack, are you gonna listen to her? We can take this guy.”

Fury pumped in Katie’s veins as she spun around and glared. “So what’s it going to be, Jack—them or me?”

He glanced from Katie to his friends and then back again, a nerve pulsing in his jaw. His tone was tight as he exhaled his frustration. “Get in the car, we’re leaving.”

Muttered curses rumbled as the boys stumbled toward the coupe.

Katie darted toward Jack. With a lightning thrust of her hand, she lifted his wallet from the pocket of his trousers as neatly as a veteran pickpocket.

“Katydid, what the devil are you doing—”

She ignored him and marched up to the soda jerk with fire in her eyes. At five foot two, she barely measured to the middle of his chest, but she didn’t give a fig if he was seven foot five. No hayseed soda jerk was going to intimidate her! She glared up, annoyance surging at having to crane her neck. “How much do we owe, you roughhouse bully?”

He met her glare with cool confidence, sizing her up with that same probing gaze that had riled her before. “Two-forty-eight total,
miss
. Forty-five cents for three Coca Colas, a dollar fifty for six chocolate shakes”—a shadow of a smile edged the corners of his mouth—“three cents for
extra
cherries—and fifty cents for the glass your boyfriend stole.”

She peeled off two crisp dollar bills from Jack’s stash and threw them at his feet, then spun around and snatched the glass from the front seat of the car. She turned and shoved it hard against his rock-solid chest. “Here, keep the change. Not that the service was worth it.”

A massive palm locked onto her wrist before she could snatch it away. “Nice girls don’t run with riffraff,” he breathed.

Julie Lessman
is a new author who has garnered much writing acclaim, including ten Romance Writers of America awards. She resides in Missouri with her husband and their golden retriever, and has two grown children and a daughter-in-law. She is the author of the Daughters of Boston series, which includes
A Passion Most Pure
,
A Passion Redeemed
, and
A Passion
Denied
.

You can contact Julie through her website at
www.julielessman.com
.

D
EAR
R
EADERS,

I hope that reading my books has given you just a touch of the joy I have experienced in writing them. To pour my heart and faith out in a novel on behalf of the Savior of my soul has been a privilege beyond my wildest dreams, and I am truly grateful for your support. It is my prayer that in some small way, the words of these novels will infuse your own dreams with renewed hope, a deepened faith, and greater passion for the true “Author of romance.”

Please visit
www.revellbooks.com
for discussion questions and more information about this book and the others in the series. Check out my website at
www.julielessman.com
, too.

Here’s to a passion most pure . . . may ours ever grow for the Lover of our souls.

H
UGS,
J
ULIE

“Guaranteed to satisfy the
most romantic of hearts.”

—
T
AMERA
A
LEXANDER
, bestselling author

—————————————
Full of passion, romance, rivalry, and betrayal,
A Passion Most Pure
will captivate you from the
first page. Don’t miss book 1 in the
Daughters of Boston series!

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