Inked by an Angel (5 page)

Kyle accepted it and mumbled her thanks. She watched the waitress walk away then studied the little white pills in the palm of her hand. The man at the bar? Had Charles or Jed sent her these things? She glanced over. Neither one was paying her any attention. Charles was still talking away, apparently loving the sound of his own voice, while Jed was keeping a loving eye on his mother.

And that gaze was like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Kyle could handle his sourpuss moods and his surly temper. She was used to his keeping her at arm’s length and pushing all her buttons just to get a rise out of her. She was even used to his sex appeal and could handle her body’s reaction to his pheromone factory. But that . . . that look of utter and complete love and devotion to a woman, even if it was his mother, was undoing her.

She looked away and swallowed the pills with the mineral water and followed with a big chug of the ice-cold soda, praying that Charles had been uncharacteristically thoughtful and sent over the ministrations for her headache.

“Darling.” Charles strolled up a few minutes later with her father and brother in tow. “How’s your stomach?”

Okay, so there went that hope. “It’s fine.”

“I’m glad.” He kissed her temple with dry lips and she smelled vodka on his breath. “Listen, sweetie, it looks like that little bit of a storm we had passed us by. We thought we’d go ahead with our golf game. You don’t mind, do you?” He eyed her expectantly, like he knew she wouldn’t mind. Of course she wouldn’t mind. She never minded. She was the perfect country club wife-in-training. The one who was going to stay home and tend his house and raise his perfect country club babies and bake pies and attend charity events and crochet and . . .

“Kyle, darling? Do you mind?” His brows furrowed in concern.

She glanced at her father and brother then back to Charles. “No, of course not. Go have a good time.”

They all smiled at her like they knew that was exactly what she was going to say. Charles kissed her again, on the lips this time, and she tasted the vodka and could tell that he was tipsy. “I’ll see you in a while, then we’ll have the buffet for lunch. I hear it’s prime rib today. How’s that?”

She hated red meat. He knew that. “Fine.”

She watched as the three men set off on their golf game and her mother left for her ladies’ auxiliary meeting. The Mecca for all bored country club wives who wanted to pretend they led interesting and meaningful lives. Surely her life was destined for something different. Right? She wanted to cry. Instead, she went to Charles’s vacated seat at the bar and sat down.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked as he wiped down the counter in front of her.

“Uh . . .” She wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t really know what to order.

“How about a mimosa?” suggested an elegant female voice next to her. “Make it two.”

Kyle turned as Jed’s mother slid into the seat next to her. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“No. Not at all.”

The bartender turned to make their cocktails and Kyle smiled at Jed’s beautiful mother while trying not to be obvious about looking for him.

Paula Gentry accepted her drink with a gracious smile and took a long, greedy swallow. “Mmmm, I needed that,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Kyle sipped her drink as well for something to do, not sure what to say to this woman whose son she’d fantasized about more than once, and very nearly locked lips with just the night before. “So,” Ms. Gentry cut into her thoughts. “Are you enjoying working with Michael and Jedediah?”

Kyle glanced up surprised at the use of Jed’s full name. “Oh, well . . .” Unconsciously her eyes moved over Ms. Gentry’s shoulder watching for him.

“He’s outside making some phone calls.” She placed a reassuring hand on Kyle’s. “You don’t have to be nervous. I understand my son. I love him to pieces, but I know him, too. I know exactly how he is.” She looked down into her glass and took another small sip. “He’s a good man. It’s been hard, but he takes care of me —”

“Ms. Gentry,” Kyle interrupted. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. We have a strictly professional relationship.” She looked up at his mother’s skeptical expression and continued. “But I know that Jed is a good man. Even for all his . . . uh, quirks? And I enjoy working there with all of them just fine,” she finished with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

The older woman seemed to accept this. “Well, good. Because after what that little bitch Kierstan did to him and all the heartache with my husband dying last year, I just want people to see my Jedediah for the man he really is.” She caught Kyle’s eyes and held them. “And he is an
exceptional
man.”

Kyle smiled down into her drink, trying to be polite. She wasn’t sure
exceptional
was the word she’d use to describe Jed.

Kyle had learned to backup all of Michael’s accounting files onto separate drives that she kept at her house or hidden in strategic places so that he couldn’t “accidentally” erase them. She also called them clever names other than ‘accounts.’ She was learning to work around him because if she didn’t know better, it seemed like he was intentionally sabotaging her work. But why? It was only costing him more money.

Now, as she sat hunched over the latest batch of receipts and logs that she’d brought home with her, she was sure of his handiwork. It was all askew. Dates were wrong. Amounts recorded in the wrong place. Some were missing or duplicated. It was a complete and utter mess.

“Michael!” she said out loud, even though he wasn’t there to hear her.

She settled back with her tea, glad she was able to wear sweats today, and studied the muddle before her.

These last couple weeks, he’d begun insisting that she do nearly all of her work at the studio, but today she’d put her foot down. She’d explained to him over and over that she was not
his
personal accountant. They had a business relationship and she could come and go as she chose because this is a
free
country and she had other clients (he didn’t have to know otherwise.) But, invariably, he’d come up with lame excuses about things he’d forgotten to give her and he’d give her his trademark puppy eyes. Then he’d buy her dinner. Then the mess before her would stretch the time into the late hours. Then, mysteriously, he’d
always
have somewhere to go, leaving her with Jed.

She sighed. It was annoying, but it was fine since she’d made up her mind come Hell or high water she was going to make this business of hers stick. She had something to prove to the world, but most of all to herself. And, as for being stuck with Jed half the time, that didn’t matter because they pretty much ignored each other anyway. Well, he ignored her. She pretended to ignore him while studying every move of his muscles beneath his shirt while he tattooed his customers. Or the way his mouth moved when he concentrated, especially that black ball beneath his lip. Man, that black ball was becoming an aphrodisiac.

Snapping back to the present and away from all forms of sexual hot buttons, Kyle focused once again on the mess of paperwork in front of her,
a la
Michael. She was really going to have to talk to him about this tomorrow because he needed to get better organized or give her a raise. Better yet, get another accountant. Or two. Or fourteen.

She finally gave up and tucked all her papers back into their respective files and into her briefcase to await the next day and fresh eyes. She showered, trying to wipe all thoughts of Jed from her mind and replace them with the man she
should
be thinking about. The man she was going to marry and be sharing her body with for the rest of her life.

She dried off, moisturized her face, and slid on her most comfortable nightgown. As she settled into bed for the night, she realized that Charles no longer held any sexual interest for her whatsoever. It was a dry well there. Instead, all she could think about, all her body wanted to know, was if kissing a tattooed man was any different, and would she ever get to find out?

Business had never been better at Jed’s. He should’ve been happy. Instead, he wanted to throw his hands up in disgust as the bell tinkled, letting them know another customer had walked in the door. He looked up from his work on his customer’s deltoid and ground his teeth. One glimpse of the pampered princess on the suit’s arm and he knew the words before they were out of her mouth.

The bleach blonde glanced around nervously and they made their way up to Kierstan at the counter. “Um, hello. We were looking for The Angel?” She smiled up at her sugar daddy. “I want to get an angel tattoo.” She gave a small nervous giggle. “And he’s going to get my face tattooed on his chest.” She leaned in. “Not too big, you know. Classy.”

Kierstan nodded her understanding. “Of course. Have a seat. The Angel is just finishing up with another customer. He’ll be right with you.”

The couple sat down and Kierstan turned around to roll her eyes. These two didn’t fit the mold of their typical clients. They were obviously trying to be ‘trendy.’

Jed turned back to his client, Salvatore. Sal was Papa Turoni’s other child, and he came in regularly to add to his collection of tats. Luckily, he had plenty of body mass to add to, giving Jed plenty of canvas to work with. He’d always been loyal to Jed as his tattoo artist, but he’d even had Michael ink on a portrait of his wife to his bicep. His rather
unique
looking wife.

All in all, Jed decided, it was ridiculous. Michael had been bringing in more work than he could accept. How could one tattoo artist be making such a name for himself in such a short time? Jed was starting to worry he’d find greener pastures and leave him high and dry and looking for another artist. Again.

A laugh drew his eyes to the source of his thoughts. Michael had finished with his last client and was sterilizing his equipment. Kyle was bent over laughing at whatever Michael had said. The woman was driving him crazy. She hung around the place
every
night, filling the place with her scent. He couldn’t get away from her. He tried to ignore her, but she was always there. And why she thought it necessary to work in a tattoo studio in business clothes and heels with her pearls and glasses was beyond him. But she must’ve come from a workout today, because she was dressed way down in tight yoga pants and a form-fitting Texas A & M T-shirt (had to admire her guts in this town) with her hair loose and free about her shoulders. The effect was devastating and he felt it clear down to his groin.

Maybe it
would
be better if Michael moved on. Because where Michael was, Muffet was. And he had no business ogling her ass in those pants.

He turned his attention back to his work, trying to tune out Michael and Kyle’s soft laughter across the room and concentrate on the skull and waving banner that was taking shape with the ebb and flow of his shadowing. “So, how’s your dad and sister?”

“They’re good, man,” Sal glanced up from watching Jed work and their eyes met over the tattoo gun. “Gabby finally told the old man . . . you know . . . she’s, uh, well . . .”

Jed nodded and got back to it. “Yeah, I know. How’d he take it?”

Sal seemed relieved to not have to say it out loud. “Ah, well, not so good. I think he’s hoping it’s just a phase. They’re not speaking right now.”

Jed shook his head. Poor Papa. Heck, poor Gabby.

Neither one of them said anything more. Soon, the rhythm of his hand and the buzz of his needle lulled him as it always did and his mind went blessedly quiet. In the far recesses he was able to work out the intricacies of another design he’d been tinkering with for a tribal sleeve that had been a special request from a well-known musician on Austin’s music scene. He would sit and sketch it as soon as he was done here.

He wiped the excess black ink and studied his current work in progress. He nodded, satisfied. It was coming along well. He dipped his needle again and got back to it.

The scent of something drifted by, teasing his memory. And not in a good way. He shifted uncomfortably on his stool as his pants became tight.
No. No. No
.

He wiped again and dabbed up more ink.

He would not let something like the scent of Kyle’s perfume, or whatever it was that made her smell like
her,
keep tormenting him. It was bordering on ridiculous. He needed to get out and get drunk. Or laid. Or both. Both sounded good.

He felt someone watching from behind him and his hand froze mid-stroke. Salvatore looked at him expectantly. Ever so slowly, Jed pulled back his needle, wiped Sal’s chest and turned around with his hands on his lap and murder in his eyes.

No one invaded his workspace while he was working.
Ever
. Not unless they really wanted to piss him off.

“What can I do for you, Kierstan?”

She slinked over, all hips, her breasts pushed even higher out of her top than usual. She bent over to examine the tattoo on Salvatore’s chest, making sure both men got a real good look. “Hmmm . . .” She didn’t say more.

Sal’s eyes were ogling plenty.

Kierstan smiled and bit the corner of her bottom lip, sucking in the small ring there before letting it loose.

“Kierstan.” Jed spoke her name as a warning. She needed to back off. She’d always been an in-your-face kind of girl, but she was getting a little too bold lately. She was plumb out of her mind if she thought she was getting her claws any further into him or his business than they already were. If he had any other choices, any other choices, where she was concerned, she’d be gone in a New York minute.

She rubbed a hand along his shoulder. “What, baby?”

He looked down at her hand and anger began snaking up through his veins threatening to spew. He had to rein it in, or so help him . . .

Then he saw her eyes flit just the quickest of glances to the other side of the room to where Kyle was sitting at a table crunching numbers on her dependable little laptop.
Whoa
. Wonders never ceased. But he was still pissed.

“Kierstan,” he said, his voice firmer.

She peered back at him, penciled black eyebrow raised.

“Get your hand off me. I have work to do and you’re in my way.”

“Fine.” She reached over and brushed a peck to his head, threw a saucy smile at Sal, and sauntered away.

He turned to get back to work. “Sorry, man.”

Sal shrugged. “Yeah. Chicks. They like to bug you while you’re trying to work. My old lady does it all the time.”

“Yeah,” was all Jed could manage.

He glanced over to where Kierstan was trying to goad Kyle. He couldn’t believe it. She was trying to mark her territory. But the problem was, he wasn’t her territory. Not anymore.

And why would she perceive Kyle as a threat?

But as he remembered the way she’d studied his lips and touched his face the night he’d almost been stupid enough to kiss her, he guessed he knew the reason why.

Jed tipped back his beer for a long, cold drink. He set the half-drained glass back down on the scarred old bar and glanced around the seedy joint. Man, he loved this place. Just a small, out of the way little dive, it was only a few miles from his studio and it was
real.
That was his favorite thing about it. It wasn’t full of yuppies trying to be something they weren’t, chasing the ‘American Dream,’ whatever the hell that was.

Nope. Shorty’s simply promised a cold beer and a place to sit while you drank it, and that’s exactly what you got.

Jed glanced at Noble, who was sitting on the stool next to him nursing his own bottle, no
fancy ass foreign shit
for him. “Thanks for getting me outta there, man.” He tipped his glass in Noble’s direction before draining the last half of its contents.

Noble nodded slightly. “Yeah. You looked like you were about to blow.”

He nodded. He was.

“Look, Jed, I know Kierstan can be . . . a bit of a bitch. And I know what she did to you was absolute horseshit. And what she holds over your head every day . . .” He glanced down at his hands peeling the label on his beer bottle. “I don’t know how you stand it every day.” He looked back up. “But you’ve got to hold it together, man. You’ve just got to.”

Jed flagged the guy behind the bar for a second beer. He felt the truth of Noble’s words like a knife to his chest. Of course he
knew
he had to keep his cool and tolerate Kierstan as a part of his professional life every fucking day. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I know, Noble. I know it. It was just a bad day for me, that’s all. It’s fine.” He managed a tight-lipped smile and sipped his new drink.

Noble studied him, searching him with his eerie, dark eyes that had always been all knowing. “Hmmm.”

Jed let it go at that. They could sit in silence and drink for a while. That was just fine with him. He turned his attention to the TV and the news, but it didn’t hold his interest.

The television flashed to commercial and suddenly he was staring into the mugs of Muffet’s daddy and her lightweight loverboy. They were all spiffed up and smiling cheesy smiles in some commercial for their accounting firm. He couldn’t help thinking how well Kyle would’ve fit in with one of her little business suits and her pearls. Then Charles’s voice, overly chipper and slightly grating, jumped in right at the end:

“
Se habla espanol
!”

Jed wanted to gag.

He couldn’t remember being this conflicted over a woman since . . . well, since Kierstan, but that was for totally different reasons. The damn kicker was, he wasn’t even sure why. They didn’t belong in each other’s worlds. And she was an engaged woman. And he wasn’t interested.

She was just,
what
? Interesting? Infuriating? Damn sexy . . .

Seeing her, smelling her, not being able to touch her, every single day was driving him crazy. Kierstan was irritating his raw nerves beyond reason. And what made it worse was he could see the sweet girl underneath the prim, business-bitch exterior Kyle tried to put up for him. He saw the insecurity she had around her family and the shoddy way they treated her and it pissed him off. She didn’t deserve that. Even if she drove a fucking Prius and was sacrilegious about his Mustang.

“Hello?” Noble interrupted his thoughts.

Damn. Dangerous thoughts. He shook his head. “Sorry. I zoned out. What was that?”

“You drunk already?” Noble eyed his glass.

“Nah. Only on my second one.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come by the house this weekend. We could watch the game. Grill some steaks? I could invite Mike if he can detach himself from Miss Accountant long enough to come hang with the dudes for a while. Cool?”

Damn Noble. Why did he have to bring her up? “Yeah, sounds good.”

“So why do you think Mike has so much
accounting
to do anyway?” Noble wiggled his brows.

Grrrrrrr.
“Hell if I know.”

“Well, I can guess. She may dress like a librarian, but the girl is smokin’ hot.”

Jed shrugged, wishing Noble would drop it already. “I dunno. I guess. Her shoes, right?” Yeah. He’d noticed her sex goddess shoes after Noble had pointed them out. Damn him. He signaled for their tab. Time to change the subject. “So. Anybody move in next door yet?”

Noble looked down. Busted. Friggin’ busted!

Jed smiled. “Yeah?”

Noble shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Who? A family?” He had a guess, but he wanted to make Noble sweat.

Noble looked toward the door. He maybe even blushed, but it was hard to tell. “Just a girl.”

“A girl?”

“A woman, okay? A lady.” Now he looked irritated.

Jed paid the bill and stood. “What kind of lady?” He shot him a smirk. “An old lady?” He grinned. “A decrepit old hag?”

Noble ignored him and walked out ahead of him. Jed knew only one kind of neighbor would make his friend act like this. A hot one. He laughed and followed him out. Messing with Noble on this one was going to be fun.