Need You Now (1001 Dark Nights) (12 page)
“Your war, Jensen.”
“I’m confused. I made sure you can go on to medical school. What did I do wrong?”
“You took care of me,” I say, repeating his words. “Like I was a problem you needed to buy off and go away. I don’t want your money.”
“It’s not like that. You misinterpreted what you heard. Let me explain.”
“You’ll convince me you’re right and I don’t want to be convinced.” I turn to the driver. “Go.”
The car starts to move and Jensen moves with it. “I told you, if you run, I’ll come after you.”
I don’t turn and look back. If I do, I might forget that a wolf in the bedroom is all pleasure, but a girl really does need a Prince Charming. Or to be alone. Alone is safe and I’m good at it. Jensen was my escape, a fairy tale to tell one day, an interlude like a story in
The Arabian Nights
. It was hot. It was an adventure. But it was never meant to see the light of day.
It’s Friday night, three weeks after I’d left Jensen in Florida, and while I don’t have a check from him for six months pay, and I doubt I ever will, or even a new full-time job yet, I have some great leads. In the meantime, I’m enduring a short-term waitstaff job.
I’m just dressing for work in a black skirt and white button-down shirt when my cell phone buzzes with a text. I grab it and squeeze my eyes shut, telling myself to stop wishing Jensen would contact me. This isn’t him. He’s not going to call or come after me. He didn’t even call the night I left Florida to return home to New York.
I glance at the text and disappointment fills me as I see Katie’s picture message of a live concert. It’s captioned with “wish you were here.” My gut twists a little and I type “me too,” and I mean it. I need someone I care about right now, and when she’d given me an invite to the Los Angeles show her new hubby was putting on, it had been tempting. I didn’t dare spend the money or time it would have demanded, though, especially not when Meredith is also silent, refusing to take my calls or my visits for “legal reasons” as I’m told by her new assistant. And despite the promise “a check is in the mail” there has been no check. I’m not holding my breath on that one and taking the money feels kind of dirty now, but I’m not sure if I’d return it if it arrived. I worked hard for Meredith and tried to protect her. To be shut out is painful.
A knock sounds on the door and I rush forward, prepared for a visit from Elizabeth, the little girl next door who is set to deliver my Girl Scout cookies I’d bought yesterday. I try not to think about a certain failed “Boy Scout” and wolf as I rest my hand on the knob. Sure enough, I open up and find a cutie pie with red pigtails at my door.
She offers me an envelope. I frown and accept. “This doesn’t look like Thin Mints.”
“Mom’s getting the orders split up now. That just came for you. Some man downstairs asked us to deliver it as we were coming home.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
Elizabeth leaves and I walk to the kitchen counter and open the envelope. Inside is cash. Lots of cash. I pull out a copy of my signed contract. There’s a handwritten note attached that reads, “It’s cash. If you want to return it, you’ll have to see me in person. Jensen.” There’s an address at the bottom.
A rush of emotions that seem to span a rainbow crash over me, and I press my hands to the counter and let my chin lower to my chest. I don’t know what to think or what to do. A knock sounds on the door and I force myself to move, certain it’s the cookies, and I need to grab them and go to work. I’m not going to be tardy and lose my job even if I keep the money. I have time until medical school to make extra money.
Swallowing the cotton in my throat, I walk to the door and open it. I gasp. Jensen is standing there in a dark suit, his red tie loose, and his dark, thick hair ready for any woman’s fingers. “How did you get into the building?”
“I bought two dozen Girl Scout cookies.” He steps inside without an invitation, crowding me, his hands coming down on my waist, his foot kicking the door shut. “I couldn’t stay away. I tried. I knew I lived in a world you hate, but I need more of your world in mine.”
“I don’t know, Jensen. I—”
His mouth comes down on mine, his tongue stroking deeply, and I moan, so very weak that my arms wrap his neck to keep me from falling. “You used me,” I accuse.
“Never. I’ll explain. We’ll figure it out. Just say ‘yes.’” His hands caress up and down my ribs, shivers running through my body.
And just like the night we first met, I whisper “yes,” not even sure what I’m saying yes to. I just know I have to know what comes next. He lifts me and carries me to my tiny bedroom, probably the size of his closet, laying me on the mattress. He settles on top of me, his hands on either side of my head, my legs wrapping his calves. And when I stare up into those amazing green eyes of his, I know I’m staring at a wolf, but maybe…just maybe…he has a little Prince Charming in him, too.
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by Shayla Black, Lexi Blake & M.J. Rose
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A Wicked Lovers Novella
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A Krewe of Hunters Novella
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A MacKenzie Family Novella
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SILENT BITE: A SCANGUARDS WEDDING
A Scanguards Vampire Novella
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by Lexi Blake
A Demonica Novella
by Larissa Ione
by Lisa Renee Jones
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A Blacktop Cowboys ® Novella
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A Midnight Breed Novella
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A Desire Exchange Novella
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A Phoenix Brotherhood Novella
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A Redwood Pack Novella
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A Krewe of Hunters Novella
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A Mountain Masters Novella
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A Masters and Mercenaries Novella
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Bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones is the author of the highly acclaimed INSIDE OUT SERIES, and is now in development by Suzanne Todd (Alice in Wonderland, Austin Powers, Must Love Dogs) for cable TV. In addition, her Tall, Dark and Deadly series and The Secret Life of Amy Bensen series, both spent several months on a combination of the NY Times and USA Today lists.
Since beginning her publishing career in 2007, Lisa has published more than 40 books translated around the world. Booklist says that Jones suspense truly sizzles with an energy similar to FBI tales with a paranormal twist by Julie Garwood or Suzanne Brockmann.
Prior to publishing, Lisa owned multi-state staffing agency that was recognized many times by The Austin Business Journal and also praised by Dallas Women Magazine. In 1998 LRJ was listed as the #7 growing women owned business in Entrepreneur Magazine.
Lisa loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at www.lisareneejones.com and also find her here:
I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)
by Lisa Renee Jones
Copyright 2014
Master…
Being that person, that man is how I define myself, how I allow the rest of the world to define me as well. And now, with a terrible loss shredding me inside out and someone trying to destroy my family to punish me, control is more important than ever. It is everything. It is what I need. It is
all I need
. Or maybe I just need…her.
Excerpt:
I shut the door and then motion to the small, round conference table in the corner. “Let’s sit.” I’m irritated that I’m aware she’s wearing the same outfit she’d worn the first night I met her, several weeks ago.
She nods and moves with the same pace, the same confident steps, confirming that she is not my type. As she once said, we’re too alike, two bulls fighting for the same red flag. We come together at the edge of the seats, neither of us voluntarily claiming one first, standing toe to toe, our gazes locking.
A band seems to tug our bodies closer; I feel our shared connection in my chest and see it in the dilation of her soft blue eyes. The howl of memories is like a heavy wind that refuses to be ignored. I’d buried my pain over the news of a search for Rebecca’s body in Crystal’s body. I’d been weak, drunk, hurting. I’d tried to recover with a business-from-this-point-forward talk.
But when I’d walked Crystal, not
Ms. Smith
, to a private jet the next day, I’d needed to touch her, to taste her one last time—the “one last time” I’d never had with Rebecca. My weakened armor had dropped, and I’d pulled her to me and kissed the hell out of her.
And damn it to hell, I want to do that again.
But I won’t. Ms. Smith lifts her hand to touch me, the way I’ve often let her and no one else do, though I still don’t understand why. Then she seems to sense the change in me, pulling back before contact.
“How are you?” she asks.
The rasp in her voice edges down my nerve endings and evokes emotions that, on some level, I want to arouse in her, though all I should desire from any woman is passion and lust. Those needs are within the realms I have always controlled, so they are acceptable.
But I sense Ms. Smith wants more. And what I want from her is more—which infuriates me.
“How am I?” My words are as tight as my spine. “Ready to get back to normal. Sit.”
Her brow furrows in silence at the command, a prelude to the many battles I suspect are before us, but she claims her seat, as I do mine. Setting my briefcase on a chair, I pull out a document and set it in front of me, intentionally building her expectation as to what it might be.
And I think she knows that, since she refuses to look at it. I narrow my stare on hers, wondering if there’s more behind her iron will than growing up in a rich family with dominant men. And in doing so, I see the slightest hint of discomfort in the depths of her eyes, the weakness I’m looking for to push her well beyond her comfort zone.
“I have the answer to my first question,” I state. “Clearly, we still want to fuck.”
Her lips part in surprise, then a look of incredulity slides over her delicate features as a disgusted sound slips from her lips. “Funny. I thought your first question would be ‘How’s my mother?’ Or ‘How’s my father?’ Or ‘How is the staff, after they’ve taken a beating from the press and customers pounding them with questions?’”
