Sugarbaby (10 page)

I breathed against his mouth, still fisting his shirt, unwilling to let go. I wasn't sure I could stand on my own, and I hoped he wouldn't take his arm out from behind my back. He was my pillar right now because my knees were weak, my bones wavery. And the more I looked into his eyes—sea green,
temptation
green—the more I went liquid.

“Why me?” I asked again.

“I already told you. You're my fresh air.”

His words were poetry to my starved self-esteem, and when he kissed me again, all my walls fell, crumbling piece by piece.

I clung to his shirt, pulling him closer. I curved my arm around his neck, as if he was going to go somewhere. But from the way his lips caressed mine—slowly, sensuously, adoringly—I knew he wasn't leaving. Not for now, at least.

“Jadyn,” he whispered against me, slipping his hand to my waist, tugging at my shirt.

It was as if he was only asking to do what he did next—coax his fingertips under the material, touching my skin until I grasped his wrist.

He stopped, but I hadn't wanted that. It was just that I was excited, my blood spiked with popping heat, and I wanted him to go on.

Wanted it bad.

I led his hand upward, over my ribs, and held my breath. His own breathing suspended against my lips.

“Touch me here.” An agitated whisper was all I could manage before I bit my lip in anticipation, pressing his palm up and up until he covered my breast.

He paused, as if he hadn't expected me to be this bold.
I
hadn't expected it, although I should have.

This
was what I wanted, needed.

As if understanding that, he eased his finger into the cup of my bra, toying with my nipple.

I sucked in oxygen, arching toward him. I brushed against the bulge in his jeans and held back a tiny groan.

His voice was gritty. “Don't tease me.”

Was I teasing? If I wasn't, I had to be prepared for another round of shame. Rex and Micah had seemed like good ideas, too. At the time.

That's when my common sense turned down the temperature, even if my blood was boiling. I had no business doing this with Noah. I hardly even knew him.

He seemed to realize I was having second thoughts, and with a muffled curse, he took his hand from beneath my shirt, straightening the material, then planting his palms on my hips. He leaned his forehead against mine.

“I can wait,” he said roughly, but there was a gentleness there, too. As always I couldn't get a bead on what he was all about. “You're worth the wait.”

I was? With my exes, everything had happened in fast motion—the seductions, the leaving—and to hear someone say this . . . ?

Well, it was a surprise. A good one, although I knew this was about Noah being a billionaire who got what he wanted, even if that included a hard-to-get waitress he needed to chase.

With that, he walked backward, putting distance between us. “Don't keep me waiting long, though. I'm not as patient as I seem in these blue jeans and boots.”

As my heartbeat filled my throat, blocking all words, he left me standing there, my world rocking once again as the sun slanted over me, pouring over the sea goddess by my side.

Temptation
, I thought again.

It had me on its hook more than ever.

***

If I had been worried about experiencing any tension between me and Noah as we drove away from the mill, I shouldn't have bothered. That text he'd sent earlier had clearly gone to Simmons, who was waiting by Noah's pickup, seated in a vehicle that sure wasn't a Ferrari. He'd gotten a more modest set of wheels, although it was still a sleek, black SUV, and he didn't look happy about downgrading.

Noah headed for his pickup, giving me a pulse-hopping smile. “Simmons will take you home. He was headed your way.” He gestured toward the flatbed. “There's still some fishing time left in the day for me, and I know you don't want to go.”

Well, maybe I suddenly did. Or was he giving me space now that he'd made his intentions very clear?

Simmons had gotten out of the SUV and was opening my door. “Fishing and riding. He wasn't kidding about getting that done on this trip.”

As Noah hopped in the cab, started the engine, then drove off with a wave out the window, my stomach tightened. Why did I have an even worse feeling about the reason he'd called Simmons? Was it because he didn't want to take a chance that someone would see me with him, now that people would be awake and driving around?

I shouldn't have let that get me down—I knew Noah was still staying away from the public. But I felt a separation from him, a definite sense of being set aside on a lower shelf until he was ready to play with me again.

Yet after all the things he'd told me, was I still on that kick?

I got into the car and, soon enough, Simmons peeled away from the mill, merging back onto the road to town.

White fences blurred past us, cattle grazing on the grass. Simmons glanced at me.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Thanks?”

“It's an observation, not a judgment.”

I hadn't been tired around Noah, but I really was feeling it now. “I'm going to crash in bed for a few hours when I get back. So much for getting all my studying done before work tonight.” A yawn attacked me, and I gave in to it, then said, “I'll hit the books sometime this weekend.”

“I wouldn't count on that.” When I lifted an eyebrow at him, he added, “Noah still has riding on the agenda. I don't think he'll want to do it as early as the fishing expedition he had planned this morning, but prepare yourself.”

A flitter, a flutter—I didn't know what it was that tickled my belly. “I'm his official tour guide now?”

“You're . . .” Simmons shook his head and steered into town, where Main Street hadn't entirely woken up yet. “I won't put a definition to it.”

That wasn't good enough. “His sugarbaby? His distraction? What?”

“If I knew, I'd say.”

We drove past the Ritz, then the aluminum-sided Harley's Diner on the way to my part of town, and it seemed as if my silence ate at Simmons, because he went on.

“Noah's not a bad guy. But he's not good for anyone right now, either, and I'd hate to see you invest too much in what's essentially a Roman holiday for him.”

A Roman holiday. Uncle Joseph had been a classic movie addict, so of course I'd heard of that Audrey Hepburn movie. A princess undercover, running around Rome and having the greatest of times with a handsome, normal guy played by an actor whose name I didn't recall. In any case, it was obvious who was the princess—or prince—in this scenario.

All the hope I'd felt while I was in Noah's arms flowed out of me. “I get it. And you don't have to worry about whether or not he'd be good for me since I'm not interested in some big romance.”

“You don't worry me much, Jadyn.”

I pressed my lips together, because I understood. Simmons was all about Noah, and he was concerned with keeping his friend out of the media. I was only something to be managed.

Disappointment had to be stamped all over me because this only confirmed that
I
was the Roman holiday. I could feel its weight in the center of my chest. Why had I let myself think it could be more?

We were at my house now, with its squeaky yard decorations lazily spinning in the morning breeze, with the oil-marked driveway ready for Simmons to pull into it. He kept the car idling as he put it in neutral and looked straight ahead, out the windshield.

“You've read about his parents, his life, right?”

“Yes.”

“Of course you have. I thought you'd be smart enough to look into him, or even to try to find who that number belonged to after he responded to your text. As I told Noah, you're different. You use your head.”

“Then I hate to think what sort of girl I'm different from, Simmons.”

“You probably already know that, too.”

I thought of the model in that society-page article, thought of all those half-dressed lovelies at the Hellfire Club.

Simmons lowered his hands from the steering wheel. “Noah was devastated when his father died from a fall down the stairs. The news reports didn't get into it, but there was a lot of booze involved with his dad, a lot of pain to deal with after the shame of having his very own business wrestled out of his grip. And it was worse with Noah's mother. She was always fragile, and she fell apart after her husband's death. It was too much to tolerate all at once, even for a man like Noah.”

A steel businessman, a boy who'd been raised to take over an empire. “That's why he left the public's eye? To recover from what happened to his family?”

“Partly.”

Then I recalled something Noah had said yesterday about the man who'd engineered the takeover and recruited Noah's younger brothers and uncles. He'd been a different Noah when he'd talked about them. Anger—and not just a hint of it—had come out as he'd told me his story.

“Is he planning to go back to New York soon?” I asked.

Simmons didn't confirm that. The only response was a muscle flexing in his jaw.

“Is he ready to take the business over again?”

“Don't jump to conclusions.”

But I knew the answer. I wasn't an idiot. Simmons wasn't going to reveal any plans to me.

I sank back in my seat. “Now that's some
Dallas
shit right there.”

When I bit my lip, wishing I'd left out the cuss, Simmons narrowed a gaze at me. Surely he'd heard of
Dallas
. Around here, you couldn't escape the TV legacy.

But that didn't matter, because now Noah Reeves had transformed into yet another thing in my mind—a tycoon, a temporary cowboy, now an angry demi-god of vengeance.

“I won't say a word, even to my friends,” I said. “That's a vow.”

“I'd feel a hell of a lot better if you signed a non-disclosure agreement promising that.”

I stiffened, and he finally looked at me, reading me, and there was a hardness in his gaze that I wouldn't ever cross, even if I wasn't a person of my word. I'd slipped up once with Micah, been a cheater, and it'd been a lesson burned into me. Never again.

He took a single paper out of his sports jacket, handing it to me along with a pen. I unfolded the sheet, reading the agreement. It was simple, and all it essentially said was that I wouldn't open my big mouth about Noah's personal business for five years.

As if I was going to write some tell-all book or go to the papers. It ticked me off that Simmons even thought I was that kind of person, and it was my pride that made me sign the paper more than anything else.

“I
am
different,” I told Simmons as I gave him the NDA. “And I don't need any damned paper to prove it. But this is for Noah.”

He gave me a look of respect as he took back the document and the pen. “It's just business, Jadyn, that's all.”

His gratitude was sincere—so genuine that I was brave enough to ask a question that was none of my concern.

“I read online that Noah was hospitalized, too. Is that why he has a . . .”

I gestured toward my neck, where Noah carried that scar.

Simmons put a hand on the shift stick, not answering, ready to back out of my driveway. I couldn't blame him for shutting down my nosiness. I'd crossed a line.

I got out of the SUV, and he drove off. The car disappeared around a corner, the sprinklers going on over at the Johnsons' lawn, the day starting.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed with a text, and I knew I shouldn't answer it, shouldn't get any deeper in than I already was with a man of mystery.

But I took that phone out, anyway, already addicted.

As I expected, Noah was on the other end of the text.

555-8465:

Are you working tonight?

I didn't respond until I was inside the house. I needed that much time to think of what I was going to type, something like,
I know this isn't going to end well, so I think it's best we stay away from each other
. Or
I'm being pulled apart, with Simmons warning me that this won't be anything serious but my friends—and my libido—telling me to throw my heart to the wind and say yes to everything you have to offer
.

After mulling this over, I sat heavily on my bed and texted back.

Jadyn:

I've got the dinner shift. Why?

555-8465:

I've got something planned.

Jadyn:

I predict you're going to say horseback riding. Wouldn't you rather do that in the morning? *Later* in the morning, I mean.

555-8465:

Ah ha, you think you can predict me. I'm going to enjoy surprising you.

Yes, he was full of surprises—not needing sleep, popping up unexpectedly, risking his life to jump into lakes. What now?

Expectation bopped around in me as I told him I usually got off shift around ten o'clock. The weekends were busier with out-of-towners headed for the wine trails, stopping by because they'd read great reviews of the Angel's Seat online. Usually, I went home exhausted.

Usually.

There were no more texts, so after I took my nap, I studied a little after all, then got ready for work. I pulled on my Angel's Seat T and dark jeans, piling my hair into a big barrette and letting a few curls hang down. Noah—or probably Simmons—was supposed to meet me here at home at ten thirty, and I would barely have time to throw on another outfit, so I laid out a clean pair of jeans and a thick sweater.

When I got to the café, one of Jackie's housemates, Frannie, was helping our boss prep in the back. Another artsy roomie, Rainey, and Juanita were already in the front of the house, waiting on the early-bird diners. As I washed up, Carley swooped into the restroom and closed the door, her pink-toasty skin flushed even more.

“We've got to hurry before our shifts start,” she said. “After you had lunch with the million-billionaire, you stopped texting me. Not that I had a lot of time for texts, but still. What's the deal with him? Did he leave town?”

I hadn't told her about Noah's surprise gifts because I hadn't wanted to interrupt her reunion with Bret any more than I already had. And now that Simmons had given me that non-disclosure agreement, I wondered what I
could
say. I'd signed the NDA in such a moment of personal pride that I realized I should've asked him if I could tell my friends I was hanging out with Noah. The NDA hadn't seemed
that
stringent, but you never knew.

At the very least, I needed to ask him for a copy. Why hadn't I thought of that? I'd also have to talk about this with Noah tonight but, in the meantime, I had to keep my tongue.

“I'm sure your romantic life is much more exciting than mine, Carley.”

Misdirection at its finest.

Then I asked, “Have you told Diana about my lunch with Noah yet?”

“No. We haven't talked since the other night.”

“Can you keep it mum for now?”

“Sure. I'll let you do the honors.” Then she exhaled and pushed back a long strand of dark hair. “As for my romantic life, telling you about it's going to require more than the five minutes we have left to chat. Maybe you, me, and Diana can have a slumber party after work.”

I smiled. “Eighth grade. That's when I was at my last slumber party.”

“So? The way I figure it, all our friends have roommates now, and they have slumber parties every night. We're getting the short end of the social stick.” She looked thoughtful. “Maybe we should call it a nighttime therapy session instead. That's so very California.”

“Is everything okay with you and Bret?”

“Yes.”

I believed her for about a tenth of a second.

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“What went wrong?”

“Nothing. I've told you before that nothing is really wrong but . . . God, I still think he wants more from me than I'm giving him.”

I knew her better than I'd known her last week, so I asked, “Do you mean . . .” I waved my hands around.

“Sex?” Carley laughed. “No, that happened a few months ago, and it was . . .
damn
. I mean, really
damn
.”

“So the sex was
too
good?”

“What's bugging me has nothing to do with a physical issue. I don't know if I can explain it in . . .” She glanced at her watch. “Three minutes. But Bret's a musician. He feels things very deeply, and I wonder if I'm capable of that. It's like he's lived years and years and I'm just some stupid young girl who doesn't understand what he sees in this world. The more we're together, the more I feel . . . well, like less. Does that make sense?”

Carley had told me once that she'd dropped out of college, and she often made jokes about being dumb. She'd mentioned her stepfather held that over her head, too.

“You're just as smart as Bret is,” I said.

From the way she shrugged, I knew I'd hit the nail on the head. Girl really did need a good soul-cleansing talk.

I squeezed her shoulder. “I can't do a therapy session tonight, but maybe in the morning? You and Diana can come over and we'll make breakfast and share away.” I'd have to think of how to tell her what I could about Noah's lunch because she would sure be asking.

Carley had brightened, and I felt like I'd felt this summer, when Evie and Shelby had taken
me
in. But I also wondered if I was a jerk for not being able to tell her about Noah right now—it made me feel like a liar.

After we left the restroom, time sped up. It was a good night at the Angel's Seat, with a lot of great tippers, and by the time the customer load lightened, the clock told me I had only about fifteen minutes left on shift. Fifteen nerve-addled minutes . . .

That was when I noticed a man with wide shoulders and a broad back in a flannel shirt sitting at the repurposed coffee bar, facing the brick wall. The railroad lanterns shone over the Stetson he was wearing, the brim pulled down low, and when he slightly turned his head toward the door, where my last customers were leaving, I saw he was wearing an expensive pair of sleek sunglasses.

It was as if there was a rope stringing my body together and the whole thing got tugged, bunching me up, making me take in a tight breath. I got warm in my belly, between my legs, everywhere, as if I had rope burn.

As Carley and the other girls finished up with their stations, I sauntered over to Mr. Obvious. I held up my order pad, playing along.

“Seriously?” I asked.

Noah lowered a glance at me, pulling down his sunglasses so I could see the green of his eyes in the lantern light. He tilted a grin at me.

I added, “This is your idea of staying out of the public eye?”

“You'd be surprised at what a good pair of sunglasses and a hat can do.”

The music was on low volume since it was near closing time, so I could hear the smooth timbre of his voice. It was like cream, but cream was the last thing I wanted to think about since I was feeling some of it in naughty places right about now.

“Where's Simmons?” I asked.

“He took the night off.” He tucked the menu back in its holder. “How about two orders of coffee to go?”

I filled out his ticket and started to move toward the kitchen, but Noah caught the pocket of my apron, hooking his fingers into it. Somehow, the maneuver was so hot that I flashed, trying not to think of cream again.

“I'll follow you home in my pickup, Jadyn.”

With a quick glance around the room to see that no one was watching us, I left him, blowing out a breath in secret. He had my veins throbbing, my body on fire. I could even still feel the pressure of his fingers in my apron pocket, and when I put my hand in it, I realized that he'd slid some cash in there.

It was way too much for two coffees, dang him.

After I filled his order, then checked out for the night with Jackie and the girls, I almost sank into myself with relief. None of them had recognized the tycoon in their midst, not even Carley.

She stopped me on my way out as I held the coffees in a takeout tray. “Two cups? Must be a big study night.”

“Huge.”

Satisfied with that answer, she lightly cuffed me on the arm. “Tomorrow morning then.”

“Bright and early,” I said. “Tell Diana?”

“I'll text her now.”

We smiled and went our separate ways. When I went out the door to the side lot where the employees parked, I caught a glimpse of the front. Noah was leaning against the rear of his pickup, one booted foot planted on the face of the tire, his hands resting lazily on his hips. He saw me, then tipped his hat.

Shaking my head, I got into my car, understanding that he would follow me to my place and we'd go from there.

So why had he come to the Angel's Seat? If he wanted coffee, he could've gone to the DQ's drive-thru or the diner in town or the coffee shop near Kroger. Or didn't he have any in his kitchen?

I was pretty sure I knew the answer, though—he was testing Aidan Falls, seeing if anyone noticed him, gauging how much he could blend into this newest hiding place.

After I pulled into my driveway, I locked my car door and brought the coffee over to his pickup, which he had idling at my curb. The windows were down, music from an oldies station on low as I handed him the tray. He'd taken off those sunglasses, resting them on his dashboard.

I lifted up the two hundred dollars he'd slipped into my apron. “Was the service bad?” I asked, joking. “Last time, I got three hundred.”

“Last time, you did a hell of a lot more work. I tip accordingly.”

“And lavishly.” I held it out to him. “Noah, I can't keep taking things from you.”

“Of course you can.”

To him, this money was Monopoly bucks. Boy, even when I'd played that game with Uncle Joseph, I'd hoarded those fake bills.

“Come on,” he said. “Hop in.”

I looked down at myself—the T-shirt with some salsa fuego I'd spilled, a dark button-down sweater that'd seen better days. My hair was a mass of curls, too, wrangled only by that barrette. “I was going to change.”

“Jadyn.” He rested his arm on the steering wheel. “You're making me wait.”

I swallowed. He'd said earlier that he wasn't one to wait. I shouldn't let the cowboy hat fool me into thinking that this wasn't a tycoon. Someday he'd be back in his designer business suits, back where he belonged.

“How about a compromise?” I asked, pointing at the sunglasses on the dashboard. I was sure he'd decided to wear them out in public as a cover. “You make sure those stay off while I'm with you, and I'll leave these clothes on.”

He gave me an intrigued smile.

“You know what I mean,” I said, untangling my tongue. I clearly didn't need a phone to deliver accidental sexts. “It'll unnerve me if I can't see your eyes.”

“Well,” he said, “as long as we have an understanding that I'd pay a king's ransom to have those clothes off you, I'll keep my end of the bargain.”

When I just stared at him, he laughed. “Don't look so scared, Jadyn. You know I'm a gentleman. Basically.”

Yeah, basically. But I wasn't much of a lady, based on how my belly was getting stabbed over and over again by lust.

He doffed his hat, setting it on the seat next to him, then ruffling his hair until it was a heart-squeezingly adorable mess. Somehow, though, he still seemed like the height of intimidating sophistication.

“The Stetson isn't my style,” he said.

I had to agree. So did my sex drive. Both of us were thrumming at the sight of him uncovered.

When I went to open my door, my hand was shaking, and I exhaled once more to calm down. Luckily, he'd already gotten out of the cab and was striding around the front of the pickup to get the door for me.

“That's my job, Jade.”

“We're on familiar enough terms for nicknames?”

“I like the sound of it—a gem stone. Have you ever worn jade?”

“Hmm. I do believe I have a necklace buried somewhere under my diamonds and rubies.”

He chuckled and opened my door, ushering me inside. Too late, I realized that we'd just had a conversation on the street, where any of my neighbors could've been looking out their windows to see us. Would they recognize him? Doubtful. But still, something protective in me welled up. I hadn't known him long, but I was already Team Noah.

As I held the coffee tray in my lap, we cruised out of the neighborhood, on the way to . . .

“Please tell me you're not taking me fishing,” I said as a doo-wop song hummed along on the radio. The white fences were like streaks of lightning on the sides of the road, and I rolled up the window, pulling my sweater around me.

“I got in enough fishing earlier. Caught a nice bass, too, but I threw it back in the lake. It was all about the sport.”

Just like I was?

I didn't let his comment bother me, because I knew what to expect from Noah now that Simmons had clarified that for me.

Speaking of which . . .

“I signed a non-disclosure agreement today with Simmons,” I said, taking one of the coffees out of the tray and offering it to him.

Noah's carefree expression disappeared, and he held up a hand to refuse the drink. I put it back in the tray, wondering once again if the order had been an excuse to be in the Angel's Seat.

He rolled up his window, turned off the music. “He told me about it.”

“All your girls . . . your friends . . . sign NDAs. Right?”

He nodded. “Simmons gave me hell for not getting you to sign one right away, at the lake.”