Twisted in Tulips (3 page)

The woman was tormenting him. Or following him.

Misty gave the bar a quick glance as she moved with Dewayne to the bar stools. Unlike rowdy dance bars with blaring music, the bar’s darker wood and stained glass touches with quietly playing blues music catered to a more sedate, and perhaps romantic, crowd. Or at least a crowd preferring a stress-free and safe-feeling escape from life’s chaos.

“This place is great, Dewayne. I only live a few blocks away, but have never been here.” Misty braced her forearms on the bar and sighed. “Thanks for inviting me out.”

“Thanks for keeping me from a bored night in my hotel room.”

The bartender introduced herself as Sam and took their drink orders. Dewayne ordered a beer from the tap. Misty ordered a margarita on the rocks with an extra shot of tequila. She’d stopped the uncontrollable shaking hours ago, but the lingering feel of that thug’s hands on her… Her skin rippled with repulsion she’d struggled to keep suppressed all day. She’d needed to appear relaxed as much for herself as for her clients and coworkers.

Maybe eventually her body and mind would be on the same chapter. The only time that had happened all day though was when she thought back to Jace. He’d never touched her, but the moment he’d made his presence known the air had shifted. She’d felt secure, and even thinking about him had the same sense settling over her.

Dewayne bumped her shoulder with his. “You’ve gone away again.”

“Sorry.” She’d warned him earlier she may not be very good company. He’d sweetly disagreed. “Lisa is lucky to have you.”

“She’s the best thing in my world.” He stated it with such matter-of-fact conviction anyone listening would know they’d been through good and crappy times together.

“You guys have been friends for twenty years?”

“Twenty-four.” Dewayne nodded thanks when Sam delivered their drinks. “We met at our first co-ed party when we had to go into the closet for seven minutes. We came out best friends.”

“And never once did you want the relationship to be more? Because I have to say, when you two walked in this morning for her appointment I just knew you were the fiancé. You have awesome chemistry together.”

“No. We would never work as a couple even if we wanted.”

Misty rested an elbow on the bar and turned to face Dewayne more directly. The idea of being in such a close relationship with a man and there being nothing sexual about it intrigued her. Mostly the lack of demand on his part was intriguing. “Why not?”

“I travel forty-eight weeks out of the year. Lisa has always wanted a family right down to the picturesque house with two kids running around. She needs a husband who will be there day in and day out.”

“And you think she’s found him in Toby?”

“Definitely.”

“Then where’s he been during all the meetings I’ve had with her?”

“Taking extra shifts at the hospital. Basically he’s banking favors so when the major wedding stuff hits he’s got plenty of chips to trade in with the other docs.”

“But these plans—”

“Are nothing compared to what they’ll be dealing with when all their family starts coming into town,” Dewayne pointed out. “And every time she’s had an appointment with someone in your company they’ve huddled together that night on the couch to go over the plans.”

Misty chuckled. The indecisive bride suddenly didn’t seem so indecisive. “Is that why we’ve all had so many appointments with her?”

“Yeah.”

“And your role today?”

“Company. I was in town and it was an excuse to see her.” With a curve of his lips his demeanor changed from regular guy talking about a friend to the flirt he’d been in the office. He traced a finger from Misty’s elbow to her wrist and back again. His eyes glimmered with interest. “And I got to meet you. If I’m really lucky I’ll talk you into a late-night coffee.”

“And by coffee you mean sex.” Misty smiled. If she hadn’t just been attacked that morning, and if he was in town for more than a couple of days, she might have entertained the idea. Her belly knotted. He was too transient. She was too raw.

“Of course he means sex,” a hard voice ground out behind her.

Dewayne’s hand froze on her arm. He glanced over her shoulder and swallowed. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Despite the disapproval snapping in his tone a feeling of security enshrouded her. “Jace Nichols.”

“Misty Morgan.” He stepped around so she could see him. “I see this morning taught you nothing.”

Unfounded intimacies hovered, hinted at a deeper meaning than Jace’s actual words. Dewayne removed his hand from her arm and paid close attention to his drink. Jace’s skill at projecting menace to one person and security to another was eerie. And arousing.

Misty shifted on the stool and confronted Jace. She didn’t want to have the attack broadcast to everyone, especially a client’s confidante, but neither would she allow this man to degrade her.

“I’ll be right back,” she said to Dewayne before she walked to the hall leading toward the restrooms and a party room.

Halfway into the hall Jace grabbed her arm and pulled her into the back room. “You should have learned your lesson.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She jerked free.

“You wear those short skirts. It’s no wonder I had to pull your ass from the flames this morning.” The left side of his nose twitched in disgust. “Here you are again in another short skirt and tight jacket allowing a man to lay hands on you.”

“Jace.” She interrupted him with a calm that would evaporate quickly if he didn’t stop.

“You invite the attention of men, no matter what their intentions.”

“Jace,” she said again. “You need to stop. Now.”

“You toss that hair back and bat your eyes and men beg you to join them in bed.”

This man was arrogance personified. His attitude had her ready to fight, but it didn’t turn her off. Some warped part of her liked that he was ranting about her clothes and looks. Liked that he noticed her and, unlike other men, wasn’t set on seducing her.

“Jace Nichols.” Misty moved closer, forcing Jace to take a step back. “You don’t know me or anything about me.” She dug a nail into his chest, driving him back another step. “You know nothing about what’s going on between my companion and me.”

“I know he’s not man enough to stand up for you.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, I don’t need a man to stand up for me.”

He lowered his head so his face was inches from hers. His breaths brushed her skin. Her lips parted. When he spoke it was with that quiet danger he did so well. “That wasn’t true this morning.”

The knots in her stomach rolled with grumbling anxiety. “I thanked you for your help this morning. I don’t appreciate having it thrown back in my face.”

“Your clothes—” He grabbed her neck with his right hand and with his hook at the base of her spine he yanked her close.

His mouth descended, claimed hers.

His anger slammed into her. She sucked in a breath, drawing in a flame of passion. It licked through her, whipping in slick tendrils that coiled around her veins. Soaking into her blood.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds.

He released her, stepped back. “You should rethink what you wear.”

Breathing heavy, her chest rising in painful pulls of oxygen, she stared.

“My…” The argument started out at a high and almost shrill decibel in her brain but came out as a squeak. She stopped herself and tried again. He’d kissed her to prove a point? She would prove one to him. “Desperation had that creep targeting me, not my outfit alone. There is nothing wrong or inappropriate about my wardrobe.”

“Except that the shortness of your skirt and the height of your shoes suggest you’re an easy target.”

“Along with thousands of other women. Your archaic and overbearing views blind you.” He started to speak, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Thank you for the rude interruption, but if you don’t mind I’d like to get back to my friend.”

“You need to be careful.”

“Are you some kind of stalker? Are you following me?”

“I was here first.”

“Convenient for you.”

“You are not convenient.”

“And you need to choose when to butt in and when not to a little better.” Without waiting for another response, she pivoted on the ball of her stiletto and returned to Dewayne. “Sorry about that.”

Dewayne waved off her apology. “Jealous ex?”

“Ha. No.”
Just a stubborn man with a giant grudge.
At least she hoped that’s all he was, because she didn’t need any more trouble.

“What happened to his hand?”

“I don’t know.” But curiosity and a nagging idea that he could be jealous had her seeking out Jace. He’d returned to a table in the corner and sat staring at her. She wanted to know more about him, like what compelled him to help a stranger, what made him so grumpy, how he lost his hand, and why he had kissed her.

Misty cocked her head with an I-am-going-to-figure-you-out-and-you-can’t-stop-me challenge ringing in her mind.

His stare locked with hers. His facial expression didn’t shift. His posture didn’t alter. Power rippled across the room as if dancing on an invisible chord tethered to her. Just as when she’d responded to his surprise kiss, tightness spread slow and suffusing along her throat and chest.

He’d read and accepted her challenge.

Caught up in the moment of awareness, twisted in the tingles of rightness, she fought to pull her gaze away and turn back to Dewayne. She didn’t know what they were talking about. Her focus was riveted on the man behind her across the room. More frequently than she wanted, her gaze sought him out in the mirror behind the bar.

Jace Nichols.

She should have noticed him during her first scan of the room, but hadn’t. She should be enjoying the safety of Dewayne’s unassuming company, but couldn’t. He lacked harsh opinions, was gentle in attitude and unwilling to tackle a confrontation. He was nothing like Jace and not remotely arousing.

Damn. What happened to being too raw?

Chapter Four

Jace nursed the beer he’d ordered for another hour and thirty-three minutes. Kyle had left quickly after realizing Jace wasn’t interested in conversation, but the talking armpit of Misty’s date continued to miss the clues of her disinterest.

The longer they sat, the more she glanced in the mirror, occasionally meeting Jace’s gaze. The more she fiddled with the drink she wasn’t drinking and studied the grain of the wooden bar. The more she shifted away, millimeter by millimeter.

Every shift flexed and released the fine muscles in her legs. The more Jace watched those long, lean legs the more clearly he saw her naked except for her stilettos with those legs wrapped around his waist. Her back, held erect in refined posture, would curve as she arched in orgasm.

Her taste, peaches and margarita, lingered on his tongue.

The training drilled into him after years of service kept him from shifting in his seat, but the erection pressing against his zipper increased the challenge. The bigger challenge was stopping himself from crossing the bar a second time.

Misty shifted again. Her skirt slipped a little higher on her thigh.

Jace’s dick twitched. He dropped a shaking hand to his crotch, flattened his palm on his cock and pressed.

Across the bar, Misty flattened a hand on her thigh and rubbed her bare skin.

Rather than ease any tension, the pressure of his hand, the imagined pressure of hers, amped up his arousal. His balls drew tight and without touching the woman haunting him, fully clothed and in a public place, he lingered on the precipice of release.

Before shaming himself, he slid his hand to the middle of his thigh and dug his fingers in until his muscles bellowed with pain. His hunger inched back, not much, but enough for control to slip back to the forefront.

Twenty-eight more minutes passed with him fighting for control when Armpit finally paid the tab and escorted Misty to the door. Not caring if he was obvious, Jace threw some bills on the table and followed.

Whatever it was about the woman he’d rescued that called to him—he’d identify it later—he couldn’t let her walk away and risk never seeing her again. She interested him beyond the desire for sex.

She spoke to him the same as she’d speak to anyone, as if she hadn’t been scared by his arm. Or didn’t care.

Rather than taking a car, Armpit and Misty walked along the sidewalk, close but not intimately close. Satisfaction twitched the muscle between Jace’s nose and upper lip on the left side. She wouldn’t be inviting him over for a
nightcap.

After a few blocks, they turned down a side street and stopped shortly at the gate of a small courtyard shared by six town homes. The place was secured with a coded keypad on the gate. Beyond was an immaculately manicured lawn with lights hidden in the foliage that offered a well-lit security among the beauty of the garden.

Fading into the shadows across the street, Jace watched as Misty hugged Armpit goodnight and keyed her code into the gate. He couldn’t see the numbers from his position, but her finger strokes were enough for him to figure it out.