Asking For Trouble (9 page)

Even though he wasn't offering anything
permanent, there was no way in hell he could be just friends with
Jazzie Ramos. Every time he got within ten feet of her, his brain
short-circuited and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms.
The best thing he could do for his sanity, was get away from her,
and stay away. After he ate breakfast, he was going to do that.

The passed the burly body guard at the front
of the truck. "You shouldn't be out here in plain view like this
Jazzie," the man told her with concern.

"He's right," Beau told her, and led her
toward the house. They passed Chase Rhodes in the yard. His face
was red and lips were flat, he was not a happy camper, Beau
thought, and wanted to smile...too fucking bad for him.

When they walked inside, he saw a beautiful
woman that could be Jazzie's sister, if not for the sprinkling of
silver in her black hair and the fine laugh lines by her warm brown
eyes. This is what Jazzie will look like in twenty years or so, he
thought and smiled, then dropped Jazzie's hand and stuck it out to
her mother. "Beau Bowman...Mrs. Ramos?"

The woman surveyed him with intelligent eyes
and evidently saw something she wasn't exactly happy with. She
glanced at her daughter then back at him and her lips pinched, but
she took his hand and said, "Yes, I'm Jasmine's mother...and you
are?"

"Her friend," he said and glanced down at
Jazzie. "I was in Tahiti with her at the wedding when she found out
about your son being missing...I was just coming by to check on
her, to see if I could help," he explained nervously. Somehow, Beau
didn't think
'I needed to make sure your daughter was okay after
I deflowered her on that island
' would go over very well. He
felt blood rush to his face and swallowed.

"We have all the help we need for now, Mr.
Bowman, but thank you for coming by to check on Jazzie. We were
just about to have breakfast," she said in dismissal and glanced
toward the door and smiled. "Chase, breakfast is about
ready..."

"Mama!" Jazzie said in reprimand, then
stepped in front of him with her hands on her hips. "Beau is my
friend and he'll be joining us for breakfast...and he's resting
here before he heads back to Lubbock," she informed her mother.

Beau thought he heard Chase Rhodes snicker
behind him, and ground his teeth, then put his hand on Jazzie's
shoulder and said quietly, "It's okay, Jazz...I'll just head on
out. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Ramos."

"No!" Jazzie said firmly. "You are not
leaving...I'll go change and we can go out to breakfast, since my
mother has forgotten her manners." Jazzie's face was red and her
eyes sparkled with anger.

"Watch how you speak to me Jasmine..." her
mother's voice was low and lethal.

The two women faced off angrily, and Beau
flinched. He didn't want to be the cause of tension between her and
her family. Both she and her mother had too much on their plate as
it was with Frankie Ramos missing, so tempers were probably short
anyway.

"It's okay, Jazzie...I have to get back home
anyway..." he said trying to smooth things over.

"Hell, no...you're not driving home as tired
as you are, Beau," she told him sternly.

"Well, you're not going out for breakfast,"
A tightly muscled man said in a deep smoky voice, as he walked
through the front door. "You're a big enough target here as it
is..." he told her then shut the door behind him.

She spun on the man who'd spoken and turned
her angry gaze his way, then hissed like a cornered cat, "You don't
get to tell me what I can and can't do, got that mister?"

"You'll do what I tell you to do, because it
will keep you safe, you got that
missy
?" The guy spat back,
then told her, "Your life and your family's life is in danger. You
hired us to protect you, and find your brother...let me do my
job."

Jazzie's mother whimpered, then wobbled on
her feet and Beau pushed by Jazzie and grabbed her up in his arms,
right before her legs gave out. Jazzie was immediately at his side
and said in a trembling voice, "Mama...I'm so sorry...let's get you
upstairs, you need to rest."

"You haven't spoken with your mom?" The man
asked shortly and put his hands on his hips. "This is serious,
Jasmine...your whole family needs to be aware and on guard," he
told her, then he looked at Chase Rhodes who was standing off to
the side with his arms folded. Huffing out a frustrated breath, the
man told him, "Chase, this isn't going to work...we're going to
head out."

Chase dropped his arms and took a step
forward with his hand up, then said, "Dave, just chill out for a
second, you just got here last night, and she hasn't had a chance
to talk to her mom and dad...she'll do that right now," he looked
over at Jazzie for confirmation. "Right, sweetheart?"

Beau held back the curse that sprang to his
lips, when he heard Chase Rhodes call Jazzie a pet name, then
walked over to the sofa with Mrs. Ramos, and gently laid her down.
"Where's the bathroom? I'll get her a cool rag for her head," he
said looking up at Jazzie.

"I'll get it," Jazzie said then sprinted off
to the back of the house.

A minute later, she came back and handed him
a wet washcloth, which he folded and laid on her mother's forehead.
Beau picked up her wrist and felt for her pulse. Her heart rate was
really elevated, so he told her softly, "Take deep breaths and let
them out slowly, Mrs. Ramos."

Jazzie turned to Dave Logan and said
sarcastically, "Dave, I'm sorry I haven't filled my mom in yet, I
just got out of bed to answer the door, then your guys attacked
Beau in the front yard...forgive me for being so lax."

He huffed out a breath and ran a hand
through his short hair, then said, "Okay, let's just get this out
in the open, so I can tell you what I found out about your
brother."

That got Jazzie's attention, she gasped and
stood up then demanded, "Now, who's not telling who what?"

Chase stepped between them, looked at one
then the other and suggested, "Your mom cooked breakfast, let's
just go eat, and we can talk about everything while we do."

"Good idea," Jazzie said then darted off
toward the kitchen, her ass swinging for all to see in those damned
short terry cloth shorts. Beau held back a growl as he saw that his
weren't the only eyes watching the show.

"Mrs. Ramos, let me help you up," Beau
offered and stood up beside the couch and extended his hand to her.
Her eyes opened, and although he didn't see acceptance there, the
animosity he'd seen earlier had vanished. She sat up and took his
offered hand and he helped her to stand, then took her arm and
walked with her toward the table. "I'll go help Jazzie get
breakfast served, and you just sit here and rest. Would you like
some juice or water?"

"Water would be good, gracias," she said
grudgingly.

Beau saw Chase and the other three men
gathered near the stairway talking quietly, and went to the kitchen
to find Jazzie. She was standing at the stove dishing eggs onto a
platter. He walked over there and started buttering the biscuits
that were on a cookie sheet next to the stove.

"Leave that on the counter and I'll take it
to the table..." Beau told her and his eyes wandered over her
skimpy shorts and the massive amount of her smooth tanned skin they
revealed. He swallowed down the lust that slammed into him, then
suggested, "Why don't you go upstairs and get dressed? And bring
your mom a glass of water on your way..."

Jazzie looked up and studied him for a
second and gave him a smile, then put the platter of eggs on the
counter, and tiptoed to put a kiss on his cheek. Warmth radiated
from her body and wrapped around him. Tingles traced down his skin
from where her lips touched him, and his pulse ramped up. When she
leaned up to open the cabinet in front of him, and her body brushed
against him, Beau stifled a groan.

Her shorts rose up and exposed the lower
curve of her gorgeous ass, and he clutched the butter knife in his
hand tighter and clenched his jaw. His palms practically itched to
feel her soft, smooth skin beneath them. Inhaling a shuddering
breath, trying to get control of himself, Beau dragged his eyes
away from her and put them where they belonged, back on buttering
the biscuits. He was in sexual hell, and every part of his body was
on fire.

She finally pulled down a glass and moved
away from him, but had to lean up on the counter to reach the
faucet knobs, and those delectable curves appeared again. His hand
stilled at his task again and he stifled the urge to burn those
damned shorts. He tamped down a curse and shifted so his front was
square to the counter.

Beau tried doing multiplication tables in
his head, reciting the Miranda and then the preamble to the
Constitution to try and distract himself, and get his problem under
control, but it wasn't working. She finally left the room with the
glass of water, and he put his hands on the counter and breathed a
sigh of relief.

A tall, muscle bound Latino guy in a tank
top and athletic shorts pushed through the swinging doors, and Beau
glanced that way. He groaned, hoping this wasn't yet another man
that Jazzie had mesmerized, more competition.
You're not even in
the race
, Beau reminded himself. He didn't want to be, so if
this was another boyfriend, it wasn't his concern. The guy walked
to the refrigerator and opened the door, and Beau gave him a nod
and a grunt, then finished buttering the biscuits, and put them in
a basket.

The man slammed the door shut, then walked
over to the counter and sat down a pitcher of orange juice. "I'm
Carlos, Jazzie's brother, who the hell are you?" he asked
shortly.

"Beau Bowman, a friend of Jazzie's," he said
then wiped his hand on his jeans and stuck it out to Carlos
Ramos.

"Friend, huh?" Carlos asked and narrowed his
eyes, then snorted. "Like that beach bum out front? She sure does
have a lot of
friends
these days," he said
sarcastically.

"Yes, she does, doesn't she?" Beau admitted
in a flat tone, and picked up the cookie sheet and platter.

"You don't like it either, I take it?"
Carlos asked him with a laugh and picked up the orange juice.

"Hell no," Beau grumbled then walked past
him to the doors.

Beau sat the food down on the table, then
turned to go back and get the grits he'd seen on the burner of the
stove. He saw Jazzie bounding back downstairs in painted-on jeans
and a scooped neck tank top. Her beautiful full breasts were trying
to escape from the neckline of that top, and those skintight jeans
framed her heart-shaped ass and rode low on her small waist. Beau
wasn't sure, but maybe what she'd had on before had been better.
She'd pulled her black hair back in a ponytail, and with her
freshly washed face and glowing cheeks, she looked about
sixteen...a very hot sixteen.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her across the
room and into the kitchen then grated, "Don't you have
anything
that doesn't fit you like a second skin?"

Her face flushed and her lip trembled, then
she tilted her chin and told him, "What I wear is none of your
business, Beau...I like how I look," then jerked her arm out of his
grasp. He ground his teeth as she walked across the kitchen,
exaggerating the sway of her backside as she went. Jerking the pot
of grits off the stove, she slammed it on the counter, then yanked
open a cabinet and reached up to pull down a big bowl.

Flinging open the drawer, she pulled out a
big spoon then scooped the steaming grits into the bowl, before
tossing the spoon and pot in the sink and running water in it. Her
shoulders were stiff as she stood there and watched the pot fill,
then he saw them shaking, and saw her fingers gripping the edge of
the sink. It was obvious she was either crying, or trying hard not
to.

Beau walked over to her and put his hands on
her shoulders, and she stiffened more then turned her head to the
side. Gently, he pulled her back against him and hugged her. "I'm
sorry, sugar...you always look beautiful, that's the problem. I
don't want anyone else to look at you," he whispered into her hair,
then turned her in his arms. He tilted her chin up to look into her
eyes and swallowed down the lump in his throat when he saw they
were indeed filled with tears.

"Oh, god, Jazzie, I don't ever want to make
you cry..." he groaned then lowered his mouth to hers. "Please
don't hate me, baby," he whispered over her lips and nipped her
lower lip, then licked it. "I couldn't take it if you hated me..."
he told her in a tortured voice.

Hesitantly, she slid her hands up his chest
and around his neck. "I don't..." she told him in a hot breath,
then closed her mouth over his. He licked the seam of her lips,
demanding entrance, then coaxed her tongue to tangle with his in a
war of possession that turned into the hottest kiss he'd ever
had.

Beau pushed his hips into hers and pinned
her against the cabinet, and she pressed her breasts into his
chest, and moaned long and low. That sound danced over his nerve
endings and sent him over the edge, and Beau thought he might
embarrass himself like a teenager right then and there.