Authors: Lily Harper Hart
Deadly Storm
Deadly Storm
Hardy Brothers Security
Book Twelve
Lily Harper Hart
Text copyright © 2015 Lily Harper Hart
All Rights Reserved
“Mandy?”
James Hardy let himself into his house, glancing around the living room for a sign of his wife. He was late – which meant she was either annoyed or lost in a project in her art studio. Since Mandy wasn’t waiting for him with a stern look on her face, James figured it was the latter, and let himself out through the back sliding glass door and headed toward the guesthouse.
A few minutes later James found Mandy just how he liked her: quiet and cute. Whatever she was painting – which always looked like blobs of color when she started – had her full attention. That allowed James the opportunity to look her over. She was dressed down in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top – which meant her work skirt and shirt were probably strewn about on the bedroom floor. Her blue eyes were contemplative as she tilted her head to the side, and her honey blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.
She was everything he’d ever wanted and more.
“Are you going to stand there staring at me?” Mandy was still focused on the painting, but she’d either heard him enter the guesthouse or somehow sensed his approach. He wasn’t sure which.
“I like watching you,” James said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his well-muscled chest. “You give me dirty ideas.”
“You always have dirty ideas,” Mandy said, wrinkling her nose as she studied the canvas. “I don’t need to be in the room for them.”
“Speaking of … are you wearing underwear under those pants?”
The question was enough to draw Mandy’s full attention. “Why?”
“I have no idea,” James admitted, grinning as he ran a hand through his brown hair. “I just can’t see any panty lines, and that makes me wonder if it’s because you’re not wearing any. If you’re not wearing any, I might have a little something I want to do before we order dinner.”
“What makes you think I didn’t cook?”
“I’ve met you,” James said. “If it’s not breakfast, you can’t cook.”
“I make kabobs all the time,” Mandy argued, her face so serious James felt the overwhelming need to smother it with kisses.
“I love you more than life itself, baby,” James said. “Putting meat and vegetables on skewers and grilling them isn’t cooking, though.”
“I also marinate them in red wine.”
“I stand corrected,” James said, taking a step toward her. “Now … come here.”
Mandy brandished the paintbrush, shaking her head as she skirted around his outstretched arms. “I’m working.”
“You’ve worked enough,” James said. “Those are workout pants, not working pants. I want to give you a workout.”
Mandy tried to frown, but she couldn’t keep a straight face. When the grin split her beautiful features, James knew he had her. “Put that paintbrush down.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t?”
“I don’t care how dirty we get,” James replied. “I just know you’re particular about those ugly hobo chairs in the bedroom. I would hate for you to get paint on them.” He took another step forward.
“Those are not hobo chairs. They’re bohemian chic.”
“You say tomato … .”
“James?”
“Yes, baby.”
“You have to catch me if you want to play,” Mandy said.
James arched an eyebrow. “Since when is that the rule?”
“Since now.”
“Then you’d better start running,” James said.
Mandy stilled for a moment, her eyes probing as they met his dark brown orbs. Her face was hard to read, and for a second, James thought she was going to turn things serious. Instead, she dropped the paintbrush onto the palette and scampered in the direction of the adjacent bedroom. “Catch me if you can.”
James wasn’t worried about catching her. Even as she squealed when he slipped an arm around her waist and tumbled her onto the bed, the only thing that worried him was the fact that a hundred years would never be enough time to love her properly.
He needed a lifetime with her. He needed forever.
MANDY
shifted in James’ arms, resting her chin against his chest as her eyes roamed over his handsome face. His eyes were pressed shut, but he wasn’t sleeping. She could always tell. When he gave in to slumber, his breathing was heavy and his heartbeat solid. Now his breathing was light, and his heartbeat was still coming down from the physical highs of a few moments before.
“Are you staring at me for a reason, baby?” James murmured, never opening his eyes.
“I just like looking at you,” Mandy teased.
James tightened his arm around her bare back and pressed her tighter against his chest. “That’s pretty schmaltzy.”
“How come it’s not schmaltzy when you say it?”
“Because I’m a macho man.”
“Ah.”
James pressed his lips to Mandy’s forehead. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“What makes you think anything is going on?”
“I know you,” James said. “If you were completely … satiated … by what we just did, you would already be asleep and the only thing I would have to worry about would be the drool on my chest.”
Mandy was offended. “I don’t drool.”
“Don’t worry, wife. I find it charming.”
“Oh, whatever,” Mandy grumbled, moving to pull away from him. “I’m so unappreciated.”
James refused to let her wriggle away. “I appreciate every single thing about you, baby,” he said, brushing his lips against her ear. “I love every little thing you do. I love the way you drool. I love the way you snore. I even like those cat noises you make when you … you know.”
“Your ego is huge.”
James reached over and tugged Mandy so she was on top of him, pushing the stray strands of hair away from her face so he could study it. “I do love you.”
“Oh, see, now I can’t even be mad at you,” Mandy said, her face softening. “You say sweet things and it’s impossible for me to be mad. It’s just not fair.”
As far as grins go, James’ was just about as charming as they come. “I know how that feels. I can’t stay mad at you either.”
“You stay mad longer than I do.”
“You throw shoes,” James countered.
“You … .” Mandy pursed her lips. “I love you, James. When I throw shoes, though, it’s because you deserve it.”
James feigned hurt. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“You’re such a drama queen.”
James held her tightly and then swiftly rolled over, effectively pinning her beneath his strong frame. Mandy didn’t fight the move, and her fingers rubbed his sensitive lower back, causing him to groan.
“Oh, keep doing that,” James said.
“You’re tense,” Mandy murmured as James rested himself on top of her, being careful not to crush her but also covering her completely. “What’s going on at work?”
“Nothing,” James said. “It’s been a quiet week. Grady stole my desk chair, though, and the one I’m using isn’t comfortable. If I had a wife who cares, she would give me a really long massage tonight.”
Since Mandy was the one who usually trolled for massages, James’ request took her by surprise. “Do you know what we should do?”
“You’re going to suggest getting a couple’s massage, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“I know the way your mind works, wife,” James said, lifting his head so he could kiss the tip of her nose. “You don’t like manual labor.”
“I … .”
“I already booked a session for us at that day spa you like,” James said, smiling ruefully at the surprised look on her face. “We’re going next Saturday. I tried for this Saturday, but they were already booked up.”
“We are?”
“We are,” James agreed, loving the furrow of her brow. “Do you know what that makes me?”
“The best husband ever,” Mandy said, rubbing his lower back energetically.
“I’m definitely that,” James said. “I’m also the man who loves you more than anything and knows how to make you happy. Go ahead and say it.”
“Say what?”
“Admit I’m the better spouse,” James teased. “Admit I’m the one who always knows how to get things right.”
Mandy moved her hand from his back and slipped it to the front, cupping his manhood softly as he shifted. “Are you saying I don’t know how to get things right?”
“I … oh … that’s nice what you’re doing with your fingers there,” James said. “I … wow … I was wrong. You’re the best spouse. Don’t stop doing that.”
“James?”
“Hmmm.”
“I do love you.” Mandy extended her tongue and flicked it against the ridge of his ear, causing James to grind himself into her.
“Okay, one more round,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we need to eat.”
“Fine,” Mandy said. “I’m only doing this for you, though. That makes me the better spouse.”
“We’ll see what you have to say when I pay for the pizza,” James said, kissing her deeply. “Something tells me I’m going to be the king of the spouse hill when that happens.”
“DID
you mean what you said?”
Mandy, clad in nothing but James’ shirt, sat cross-legged on the living room floor and opened the pizza box. After another hour of playing and cuddling, James’ stomach lodged a formal complaint and they moved to the main house so they could order dinner.
“What did I say?” James asked, handing Mandy some napkins and a paper plate.
“That I’m a terrible cook.”
“Yeah, there’s no way I said that,” James said. “I value my life – and my love – too much to ever say that. I said you don’t cook. If it’s any consolation, you make a mean omelet, baby.”
Mandy made a face. “But … a wife is supposed to cook for her husband. We’ve been married almost five months now. You’re right. I only cook breakfast for you, and I didn’t even do that this week.”
“It’s fine,” James said, brushing off her concerns. “I like pizza and Chinese food. We don’t have to clean up when we’re done either.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“What doesn’t seem right?” James was starting to get exasperated. Mandy veered off on weird tangents whenever the mood struck. He had a feeling it stemmed from insecurity, but he knew better than to ask if that was the case. That would only make her feel self-conscious – which was worse than insecure.
“You work hard,” Mandy said.
“You work hard, too,” James said. “I don’t think being a court clerk and having to listen to horrific cases day in and day out makes your life a bed of roses.”
“I know.” Mandy worried her bottom lip with her teeth and then jumped to her feet and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” James called to her back. “Don’t you dare get dressed. We’re not done yet. It’s supposed to be nice tonight. I thought we would take a bottle of wine into the hot tub and pick up where we left off once we were done eating.”
Mandy didn’t answer.
“Crap,” James muttered. He just knew something bad was about to happen.
When Mandy returned, she had a small catalog in her hand.
“Are you shopping for a cook?” James asked, nonplussed. “I don’t think we need one. I like takeout.”
“I’m not shopping for a cook,” Mandy said. “We already have a maid – which I feel guilty about.”
“Why do you feel guilty about the woman who comes into this house twice a week and cleans?” James asked. “It’s her job. She’s paid very well … and tipped extravagantly.”
“Paid by you,” Mandy said, her voice low.
Ah, there it is.
James knew Mandy often felt like she didn’t contribute to the family funds enough. Her yearly salary at the courthouse was pretty much akin to his monthly income. “Mandy, don’t do that,” James warned. “I don’t care about money … or cooking … or freaking laundry. I care about you, and I care about me. I would be perfectly happy if you quit your job and painted your entire life. I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“Eat,” James ordered.
Mandy ignored him and focused on the catalog.
“What is that?” James asked, knowing she wouldn’t relax until they got to the root of her concerns.
“It’s the class brochure at Macomb Community College,” Mandy said.
“Are you going to take another art class?” James didn’t have a problem with it, except for the fact that it cut down on their quality time since Mandy could only attend classes at night.
“Actually, I was thinking of taking a cooking class.”
James made a face. “Why?”
“Because … I don’t know … wouldn’t you like a nice pot roast, or baked chicken, or … pasta thing?”
“Not if you’re going to call it a pasta thing,” James said. “Mandy, you’re the love of my life. I don’t need you to cook.”
“But … look, this class is only for six weeks and it covers all of the basics,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like me to be able to cook a nice, romantic dinner for the two of us? I gave you a granola bar on Monday and told you to pretend it was blueberry pancakes.”
James smirked. “And then I stopped at McDonald’s and got a steak and egg bagel on my way to work. It all turned out fine.” He tapped his chest for emphasis. “See, I’m here. I’m perfectly fine.”