Spy Games: Lethal Limits (8 page)

“What do you like?” he asked as they strolled through the fresh produce. He grabbed a huge bag of carrots and dropped them into the cart.

“Hmm. Anything that isn’t featured in an airport restaurant section.”

“No cinnamon buns, then.”

“I like the cinnamon buns.” She pondered for a moment. It’d been ages since she planned any sort of meal for any length of time. “I want a roast chicken and an ice-cream sundae.”

“Really? I’ll make you run extra for ice cream.”

“I’ll pay double the miles for hot fudge.”

He grinned. “You’re on.”

They went to the frozen foods section, fought over ice cream flavors, and finally decided they both could stand chocolate chip. He gave her a lascivious glance that heated her insides as he put a can of whipped cream in the cart.

“Vanilla people don’t use whipped cream for
that
,” she informed him but let it stay. She wanted it on her sundae. She’d be damned if the stupid house kept her from having whipped cream.

“I bet they do. You want me to ask someone? I don’t even know if I know any vanilla people.” Jake turned, looking inquisitive, innocent, and she freaked.

“No!” She glanced around, afraid he’d turn to the nearest couple and ask, but they were alone in the cooler section.

Then they found the aisle with condoms. He started to empty the shelf, she slapped his hand. “Vanilla people don’t have that much sex.”

“They don’t?” He looked at the cart, and then at her with a wolfish grin that dampened her panties. “I want to have that much sex.”

“I bet you do, but take only one box. The store isn’t going to run out while we’re here.” She wanted to say he wanted to have that much sex with Blondie, but she didn’t want to ruin his lighthearted fun. He really was fun, exciting, and she found herself liking him more by the second.

They bought her chicken to roast, more real food, and a few movies from a rental box in the front. Then they gathered their purchases and headed for his truck. She paused on the sidewalk at a shop window, drawn by a purse. Then she realized what the store was, and she blinked.

“You knit?” Jake asked at her elbow, studying her face and the materials in the window. It was a knitting store. The clutch purse must have been an available kit, and it was so cute, fun, and she fell in love immediately. It would be perfect with her silver gown. Hell, it might even hold one of her smaller guns.

“I used to knit, in another life.”

He grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward the store’s entrance.

“No, what are you doing?” She tried to plant her feet on the sidewalk, but he was very insistent and much stronger. And a part of her really wanted to go in.

“Going home means we do things we don’t do in D.C. That means you’re going to knit,” he commanded in a voice very close to his Dom voice, one that still had a touch of Texan charm in it.

She stared at him. “You’re crazy.”

“I want a hat.” Jake opened the door and gently pushed her in first. “No one has ever knit me anything before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I grew up in Texas. Who knits winter hats in Texas?”

He had a point. “It’s May. You don’t need a hat.”

“I want a hat.” His jaw set in a way that brokered no more discussions on the issue and Tia sighed as she stepped fully inside the quaint shop.

Once inside, he dragged her toward the window display and she gazed longingly at the purse. It was even prettier inside the store, close up, all silver beads and shiny. She didn’t even know one could knit with beads. If she had a shred of girly girl left in her, she would be crying purple puddles of need.

“Knit me a hat and I’ll buy that purse thing for you, too.”

“Jake, no.”

“Miss?” he called to the ancient sales woman, stocking yarn into a cubicle. He flashed that million-watt smile of his, the one that weakened her knees on so many occasions. And yes, it worked, because the woman blushed like a schoolgirl. “You think you can help me choose some yarn so my little lady can make me a hat?”

“Of course!”

Jake’s grin turned cocky and Tia became a helpless bystander as he charmed the storeowner into helping him find just the right blend of wool that wouldn’t be itchy. The right color—he wanted black with a small blue band. He chose the best needles—ebony wood, so expensive compared to plastic—and even got her a book for a pattern.

And then he offered up her prize—the glittering evening purse—and she melted. “Thank you,” she whispered. No man had ever bought her anything she remotely wanted before. Never mind a purse.

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he carried the purchases, along with the bag of groceries, back to the truck. “You’ll pay, believe me. But I’ll probably enjoy my hat more.”

She doubted it. He was just as considerate in bed as he was out, but one could never be sure. “How far is your home?”

“Just up the road a bit. I called ahead. I have a friend who cares for the place for me while I’m gone. She’s bringing the horses over. They should be there when we arrive.”

“You mentioned horses, but I didn’t realize they’d be at your house.”

“I have two. It’s part of the charm of coming home.” Jake smiled. The closer they got to home, the easier he smiled, and the less smug those smiles became as well. “You can’t take the ranch from the Texas boy. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t come home and ride.”

“What else do you enjoy while at home?”

“I read. I have a tree I like to sit under in the yard. I mess around with the tractor. I fish in the lake and swim there in the summer. I like to shoot. I have a target range out back. Even though shooting is something I’d do in D.C., it’s a necessity. And I like to hunt, so I’ll take out the shotguns.” He looked at her, his mouth firm, serious. “And I don’t know what else I enjoy. If I’m in D.C., I am either working or spending time with Chase and Kate and evenings at the club sometimes. So my fuck-up has really made an impact in my life, as you can imagine.”

“I can see that.”

“But when I come home…” He looked so wistful, and the stress seemed to just melt from the lines in his face. “I’m home.”

****

Jake stepped out of the truck and sucked in a deep breath of fresh, Virginia air. He loved it. Not as much as he loved Texas, but if one had to live a zillion miles from their home state, Virginia had a lot of selling points. This farm was his major selling point. He loved everything about it, from the old white clapboard farmhouse and rolling hills, to the tire swing in the front tree.

Tia got out and looked around, then smiled. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

She glanced at the ancient farmhouse with pristine white clapboards, the walkways bordered by late spring flowers. “So this is the possessive house with the wacky rules.”

He rounded the truck and put a finger to his lips, giving her wide eyes. “Don’t let the house hear you. It will demand vengeance.”

“I think it’s already well on its way to vengeance with the vanilla sex rule.”

He laughed at the dirty look she gave his house. “Be thankful there’s any sex. When Chase came home with me, the no sex rule was in full effect. It was a sad, sad time.”

“And how do a couple of man whores entertain themselves without sex?”

“Lots of booze and bad porn. It’s always the solution.” Jessa, his mare, nickered, and Jake went to the fence as both horses ambled over. His heart gave a funny leap at seeing them again. He missed the horses the most while away.

“Hey, girl.” He patted Jessa, his elderly bay mare, and Tonka, the six-year old gelding nosed his golden head over the fence for attention. “There are carrots in the grocery sack. You want to feed them one?”

“Sure.” She rustled in the truck and came out with the familiar cellophane bag that made the horses nicker. Jessa stomped an impatient hoof. Tia looked surprised. “They know the carrot bag?”

“Smart creatures, these two. They at least know the crinkle of the plastic.” He ripped open the bag and gave Tia a carrot to feed. “You know how?”

“Of course.” She expertly broke the carrot into pieces and stuck her hand under Jessa’s muzzle. Tonka got one next. She grinned up at him, and his heart did a different funny leap, one that it hadn’t done in a long, long time. “Will you ride them today?”

“After we get settled. You can ride Jessa if you want. She’s quiet. Tonka is a handful.” He patted the buckskin’s golden neck, then turned back to the truck. “We’ll take in the groceries, and we can leave our overnight bags in the living room. Those can go upstairs later.”

“Okay.”

She was still stroking Jessa’s neck, reluctant to leave. He knew the feeling, and he leaned against the truck for a moment, drinking her in. He realized with a start this was the first time he assessed her as a woman, not a bed partner, a friend with benefits, or as his captor. He knew she was beautiful, but usually when he assessed her, it was to size up what he was going to do her first, how he’d use her, what pleasure or pain he’d extract or deliver.

Clothed in jeans and a floral print, button down shirt, she looked suspiciously like girlfriend material—pretty, classy yet casual. A woman his mother would love to be introduced to, and that made him happy and nervous at the same time. His mother hadn’t met a woman of his since he’d brought Charlotte home, and his odd relationship with her wasn’t the least bit romantic. Tia smiled at him again, and his heart did that funny leap thing, a maneuver that hadn’t happened before with her, not at the club or in Paris.

It was hard to gauge what sort of agent she’d be. She looked fit, and as she bent to pick a handful of grass for Jessa, she moved with a grace that would translate into speed and agility. But this was vacation. He’d learn her skills later, and he’d teach her what she needed to know to save both their asses. Right now, he wanted to learn more about Tia as a woman.

“You ready to go in?” he asked,

She nodded but looked a little uneasy. He didn’t like that. She should be as happy as he was. It was home, after all.

Jake stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Come here.”

She turned, and he folded her lithe form into his arms and hugged her close, hoping to ease her discomfort. She smelled so good, like flowers and chocolate, since they’d shared a candy bar on the way to the house. He wanted to taste her mouth, to see if she tasted just as good, but he resisted. Something told him to wait.

His inner sense was usually on the mark. It’d kept him alive this long, and his last boss had been a bastard to work for. Always forgetting to cross the t’s and dot the i’s, and Jake would end up in trouble more often than not. And though he and Tia had had sex many times, his inner senses told him this was different.

Tia was no ordinary woman, either. He knew she had issues. Normal women didn’t capture men in Parisian hotel rooms. At least, he didn’t think they did. He didn’t know many normal women. But the way she had stared at that purse so longingly spoke of other issues, ones that were just as important to him for some reason. He’d felt like a king when she smiled up at him after purchasing the kit for her. It was obvious she’d never been treated to something like that before. And it touched him.

He ran a hand over her loose curls, loving the texture under his hand. She was beautiful. Smart. Cunning. She deserved diamonds and silk. She deserved pampering and spoiling. Yet he sensed those were things just out of reach for her unless she got them herself. A woman shouldn’t have to do that. Not all the time, and he vowed to make the weekend special for her.

He kissed her forehead and released her with a smile. “Welcome home.”

She looked baffled. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“You’re not going to grope me or kiss me or…I don’t know. You just wanted a hug.”

“I’d like to stretch my legs before I bind you and take punishment out of your sweet flesh if that’s okay.” He laughed at her worried expression. He couldn’t help himself. “Tia. I’m home, and I’m one happy man. If you don’t want to have sex this weekend, then fine. We’ll get to know each other, and hopefully, become more than friends with benefits, though I like the benefits you offer. But I’m not a lecherous pig. I’m just a man whore, home for a weekend of normalcy.”

A small smile played across her lips, and she shaded her eyes with her hand to look up at him. “I didn’t realize there was a difference.”

“Big difference.” He smirked at her expression, one of suspicion, as if she thought he was pulling the wool over her eyes. He arched a brow. “Am I not meeting expectations?”

“You’ve always exceeded expectations, but this time you’re blowing everything I ever assumed about you out of the water.”

“Is that good?” From the look on her face, he assumed it was very good. Whatever experience she’d had with men hadn’t been very appealing, he guessed. He’d change that. One didn’t get to be successful with the ladies without paying attention to detail. By the end of the weekend, he would have her details well in hand.

She blinked as she studied his face, so serious. “I don’t know.”

“Give it time. I’ll grow on you.” He grabbed the groceries from the truck. “Get your knitting, missy. We’ll have some lunch, and you can start your knitting. I expect to see a hat by Sunday night.”

****

Later that afternoon, Tia leaned on the fence as Jake rode the mare. She was bay, he’d informed her. Chocolate brown with a black mane and tail. So far, Jake had been nothing but a perfect gentleman, and though she felt bad for not expecting it, given the quest of the weekend and him being a man whore, she sort of figured he’d jump right into the sex.

But he hadn’t. He hadn’t even kissed her yet. The hug he’d given her in the yard had been welcoming, not something she expected of a man whore, either. The oddities continued as he picked on her at lunchtime about liking lettuce and tomato on her sandwich—cruel and unusual veggie punishment, he called it.

Then he tormented her as she tried to remember how to cast on the stitches to start his hat. She finally got pissed and sent him outside to put saddles on the horses—tack up, he had corrected with a smug grin. She didn’t care what it was called as long as he left. But she liked how he felt comfortable enough to pick on her, and she wondered if this was what Blondie put up with every day or if he was just trying to make her feel like one of the gang. A small gang—two—but it had worked.