Devil's Plaything (Playthings, #1) (7 page)

When he reached the door, he slid the chains, turned the locks. He held the handle for a moment before he turned to her.

“My name is D’yavol,” he said.

And then he left.

T
hree Saturdays later, a firm admonishment in her mind that she
would
have fun and not let thoughts of
him
ruin her night, Julie found herself at Nurse Wilson’s house for the spades league. It was a well-attended affair, with at least fifteen tables set up and occupied throughout the house, old-school soul music blaring, drinks flowing, and the constant teasing and shouts that were so part of the game flaring up frequently. She and Shayla had been quite the team, running through four others with relative ease the first two hours they’d been there.

“Who got next?” Shayla screamed. “Not that it matters,” she said even louder. “Ya’ll didn’t come to play!”

Carlos, one of the male nurses, sat in the chair across next to Shayla, and his friend Albert, one of the X-ray techs, sat next to Julie. Carlos eyed Shayla, almost salivating, and said, “We definitely came to play, Dr. Rodgers.”

“Well cut ’em then,” she said as she slammed the deck of cards in the middle of the table, completely ignoring Carlos’s innuendo. It was game time, and Shayla did not lose.

Julie giggled and looked over at Albert, who seemed equally amused at the display.

“You’ll protect me, right?” he said to her with a brilliant smile.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said, returning his smile with one she hoped was equally brilliant.

Albert had worked at the hospital for a little over a year, but they had only talked briefly in passing. The other ladies at the hospital seemed impressed. Even in scrubs, he was impeccably groomed, the rich brown skin of his face a smooth covering over his chiseled features and equally chiseled body. His goatee even looked nice, and Julie generally detested facial hair.

“Let’s run ’em, J!” Shayla said as she dealt the cards.

Julie flashed another smile at Albert and felt warm at his returned wink.

The game was hard fought, much closer than the others, but she and Shayla came out victorious, probably less of a feat since Carlos had spent more time flirting with Shayla than paying attention to the game. Shay got her flirts in as well, but she managed to keep at least some of her focus on the cards.

“Carlos, it seems only fair losers get drinks.”

Carlos smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Of course, Dr. Rodgers, but I think you and your partner need to give the table a break, let somebody else win.”

“I won’t ‘let’ anyone do anything”— she looked over at Julie, who nodded—“but if you want to have a drink while I explain everything you did wrong in the game, I’d love to.”

“Who could turn down an offer like that?” he said as they both stood and left the table.

“So it looks like you’re stuck with me,” Albert said, his deep voice pleasing.

“Looks that way. I could use a drink, too,” she said.

Holding her hand, Albert led her through the crowded party, and after getting drinks, a beer for himself and a diet cola for her, he found them a couple of empty seats in a secluded corner of the porch.

After a few moments of silence, he asked, “So, why don’t I see you around more, Nurse Julie?”

“If you’re looking for a Nurse Julie, you might not see one for a long time. I’m a custodian.”

She waited for some reaction, acutely aware of the hospital hierarchy, but there was none, a huge point in his favor.

“And you probably couldn’t see me anyway through all the nurses and patients hitting on you.” He laughed, a pleasant enough sound. “I try to be nice to my coworkers. Some more than others,” he said as he looked into her eyes.

“You trying to be nice to me?” she asked, giving in to full-on flirting.

“I’m trying to figure out if you’re worth it.”

Julie barely suppressed a groan and eye roll, but she continued, “Results so far?”

“Oh yeah, you’re worth it.”

She smiled, though his words took some of the fun out of it. D’yavol had always thought she was worth—No, she wouldn’t go there. She was having fun with a man outside, in the company of other people. She would not compare him with someone who wouldn’t be seen with her in the light of day and had only told her his name three weeks ago. She was going to have D’yavol-free fun tonight.

Mantra in her head, she talked to Albert throughout the party and even played a couple of hands with him when she couldn’t detach Shayla from Carlos’s side. As the evening was winding down, Albert asked if he could escort her home. She found Shayla getting cozy with Carlos, and after a quick conversation in which Shayla proved that she was not drunk and was okay to drive home—hers or Carlos’s she didn’t specify—Julie agreed.

As they drove, the pleasant conversation continued, though Julie was nervous about taking him to her neighborhood. For no reason, it turned out.

“Wow, my grandmother lives about two blocks from here. I come over every Sunday for dinner. Small world,” he said.

“It’s sweet that you spend that much time with your grandmother.” And Julie meant it. Devotion to family was something she found deeply attractive.

“No doubt,” he said. “After everything she and my mom did for me, it’s the least I can do. And my grandmama throw down in the kitchen.”

They both laughed, the sound filling the car as his pulled to a stop in front of her building. Suddenly, she was nervous. She hadn’t considered how to handle the potential for a kiss and was weighing scenarios when Albert leaned over and hugged her.

“I had a good time, Julie. Maybe I could take you out some time?”

It was exactly the outcome she’d wanted, a great low-pressure invitation from a guy who she’d had fun with. She was officially certifiable.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said as she leaned over and hugged him again. “I did have fun, though. See you around,” she called as she got out of the car.

He nodded and waited for her to enter the building, further proof that he was a good guy. Too good for her to mess with while she figured out what was going on with her mystery man. She’d been sorely tempted, the normality that Albert offered an appealing respite from the unnormality of her and D’yavol. But tempting as it was, she wouldn’t play games.

Unlocking her door, she smiled. She had had fun tonight, so while her life was still far more confusing than she liked, she had managed to get away from it all for a bit.

After closing and locking her door, she pulled her shirt over her head and sniffed it. Albert did like his cologne, but it smelled better on him, she thought as she scrunched up her nose and headed to the bathroom.

A tap on her door stopped her midway.

••••

S
eething and rage-filled was probably not the best mood for a visit, but here he was. When she hadn’t answered the door earlier, he’d decided to wait, certain she’d be home shortly, feeling creepier and more pathetic as the hours slid away but equally determined to see her tonight. A giant man milling in the hallway would probably garner too much attention, so he’d settled in his truck with a clear view of the front door and waited. And waited more, until she and her companion finally pulled up, all smiles and hugs. The
wrongness
of seeing Julie with someone else hit him hard. That should be him, especially since the asshole had no idea how to treat a woman, sitting in the car while she walked to the door. Why didn’t Julie seem to mind? He’d never do something like that.

You’ve also never taken her out, idiot
, a little voice in his head whispered.

And, righteous indignation aside, the voice was right. Did he expect Julie to sit around, content to wait for him forever? Well, truthfully, it was better than the alternative, but Julie didn’t seem content anymore. He had no choice but to act fast.

He hopped out of the vehicle and made his usual circuitous entry into her building before knocking at her door.

The pop of the dead bolts followed by the sound of the chain sliding and the creak of the door as she opened it were his only greetings as he entered and closed and locked the door behind him.

Hands on her hips, she stood in the entryway in jeans, a bra, and no shirt. The stern look on her face suggested she would not appreciate his words of admiration, so he stayed silent but still admired the view of her rounded shoulders, her full—fuller than full—breasts nestled in the cups of her black lace bra, more beautiful because it didn’t try to titillate, the curve of her sweet belly, which felt so wonderful pressing against his abdomen as he pounded into her.

“I hope you didn’t come here for that,” she said, her voice angry.

“No, I didn’t.” He looked into her eyes. “Where were you tonight? And who was that man? What did you do with him?” He flinched at the slight pitch in his voice. He sounded angry and needy, which disgusted him.

Her too, apparently, because her eyes widened, and a riotous expression covered her face in an instant.

“None of your business. Good evening.”

She headed toward the door, but he placed a hand on hers when she touched the doorknob.

“I was worried when you weren’t home.”

Shoulders shaking, she took two deep breaths and looked up at him, her face a mask of rage.

“How dare you! What gives you the right to me a question like that?”

“I thought we had an understanding,” he said, happy that his voice had returned to it’s normal cadence and no longer betrayed any emotion.

“Understanding? What? That you come and go as you please without telling me your
name,
or anything else for that matter, and I, slut that I am, keep my fat thighs spread to make sure access to my pussy is convenient?”

Splotches of red covered her face and chest, a true mark of her anger, and D’yavol reached out to touch her, but she slid away before he could make contact.

“I need to take a shower. Be gone by the time I get back,” she said without looking at him, removing her remaining clothes as she walked across the room and slamming the door, the best she could slam it anyway, given how the flimsy the damn thing was, with finality.

Not that he was going anywhere.

Nope. Julie was his, and even if he didn’t know anything else, he knew how to fight. And he was going to fight for her.

F
ollowing the routine he’d memorized by watching Julie, he set about her kitchen to make tea, the sound of the shower droning in the background. The activity gave him time to plot a course of action. Julie was mad, nearing her breaking point, and he’d do everything he could to save this... He frowned as realization dawned on him. He knew what he needed to do, but doing so might end them before they really had a chance to begin. Risky, but he’d do it. He just prayed she wouldn’t shut him out of her life.

The shower stopped, and after a few moments, Julie emerged, along with a cloud of steam and a scowl. She huffed and didn’t even acknowledge him as she moved around the room, settling on the love seat, still wrapped in a towel and dropping three bottles beside her. Starting with the smallest, she picked it up and squirted a tiny bit of the white cream in her palm before she slathered it all over her face, Then she picked up the next bottle and rubbed some of its contents all over her body, opening her towel without hesitation, the tilt of her head saying she dared him to look. Finally, she sat again and rubbed oil from the third bottle on her feet and promptly put on socks before wiping her hands on the towel.

Then, out of a separate pail from the one that contained the lotions, came the hairbrushes.

He’d never have guessed Julie had a beauty ritual this complicated. His laugh jumped out of him on its own volition. Julie cut a glance at him.

“You think it’s easy being this beautiful?”

“For you, yes,” he said, trying desperately to contain his laughter.

She looked away, but she’d spoken to him and not just to demand he leave, so it was progress.

After she finished and returned wearing a large T-shirt and cotton shorts—as if he cared what she wore—she sat on the love seat, shaking her head when he motioned toward the tea. Undeterred, he picked up the mug and walked over to the love seat to sit down. This was better than the table; no way she could avoid contact with him here.

“It’s cool enough to drink,” he said as he offered her the mug.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip, looking at him with surprise when the liquid hit her lips. It was as good an opening as he was likely to get.

“You didn’t think I’d know how you like your tea? You know how I like mine.”

“And that’s about all I know about you,” she said, tone a depressing mixture of anger and bitterness.

“Let’s fix that.”

“Meaning?” She looked over at him.

“Meaning ask me anything. I won’t lie to you.”

Her expression was skeptical. He should have known this wouldn’t be easy.

“Why? Why now? Is this some kind of jealously thing? A mind fuck? You get off on this?

“I’ve never done this before. And as to why, you’re right. It’s not fair of me to come here and take from you. You said you needed something, so here it is. Ask me anything.”

Expression softening, Julie placed the mug on the floor beside the couch and leaned back, considering.

“Anything? Really?” Her eyes were now glittering with rising excitement, what he imagined a child on Christmas morning would look like, as she leaned forward.

“Yes, but don’t be excited. I’m not that interesting.”

Her face stiffened, and her eyes went flat again.

“D’yavol, you just told me a lie.”

“What?” he said, concerned at the turn in her expression.

The smile she unleashed put him at ease.

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” she said, and he could tell she believed it.

A crease marked her furrowed brow, and he reached up to trace the spot.

“Tell me,” he said, “what you’re thinking. What has made you frown?”

“Nope,” she said, waving as if to dismiss the question. “I refuse to waste time on me when I have you in my greedy little palms.” She rubbed her hands together with glee, the earlier tension broken, and the Julie that had woven herself into the fabric of his being returned.