Sweetened With a Kiss (14 page)

She shook her head, pushing away from the doorjamb. There was no help for her. She was the biggest idiot on the planet. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so hoarse.

He stared at her a minute, swinging slightly. Then he reached up and released the boots. She watched him swing down. There wasn’t an ounce of body fat on him anywhere. His feet hit the floor. He pulled the boots off then grabbed a water bottle out of the refrigerator.

“Elliot seemed to think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice calm and steady. He wasn’t even breathing heavily. The whole human thing was still seriously in question. He was just too beautiful to be real. “I just don’t like the idea of you in the French Quarter. It’s not safe.”

“I’m not trying to open a strip club.”

His eyes swept her from head to toe. The slow appraisal sent wildfire racing under her skin, especially when he lingered on her legs. His eyes burned but the rest of his expression was blank.

“Will you just read our business plan and keep an open mind when you do? That’s all I’m asking.”

He watched her another half a minute, then gave her a curt nod before turning to the punching bag. Jen watched him throw a few punches at the swinging bag, then went back outside. He hadn’t said no. Maybe the nod meant he’d consider it. Maybe. But she seriously doubted it.

Hours later, Stefan lay on top of the duvet in the downstairs guest bedroom with a low carb beer balanced on his chest. He’d given up on sleep several hours ago and was forcing himself to focus on an infomercial for a blender that he was sure he had to have. He sent Martin a text with the phone number and website for the blender so he could order three tomorrow. It had four blades and they claimed it would juice. He didn’t care if it juiced. He cared that it was sharp. He went through blenders like crazy. He sipped the beer, and refused again to let his mind wander to the business plan. He’d read a few pages of it earlier and honestly it had potential. But there was no way he was letting her open up a bakery in the French Quarter. None. Damn it. It wasn’t safe.

The beer nearly upended when he heard her scream. He sat straight up, waited a moment, then heard her cry out again. He headed upstairs. He was prepared to knock the door down, but the few functioning brain cells he had left checked the door knob. She’d left it unlocked, a habit from childhood when the bad dreams came. Mac had taken her bedroom doors off the hinges more than once until they’d finally just replaced her doorknob with one that didn’t lock.

He found her thrashing on the bed, and caught her before she screamed again.  He hadn’t known she still had these dreams. She never remembered them, thankfully.  He slid under the covers and hauled her back against him.

“Jen, you’re dreaming, baby. Settle down.”

And she did, just like she always did. She moaned his name, then broke his heart when she said, “You’ve got to stop Robert.”

“I know,” he told her, even though she was still asleep.

“Stefan, stop Robert,” she whispered, sounding like the lost twelve year old he would have done anything to keep safe.

He covered the back of her head with his hand and held her tight until the demons finally turned her loose and her breathing evened out. She curled into him and he knew he’d made a huge mistake. She didn’t feel like a lost twelve year old as she relaxed against him. She smelled like oranges and sunshine and her skin was like satin under his fingers. Definitely not twelve any more. He pulled her tighter to him, drank in the feel of her pressed against him. He’d wanted to hold her like this for so long he didn’t remember not wanting it. She fit against him like she’d been made for him.

One long smooth leg eased between his, and Stefan groaned as quietly as he could when his whole body came to attention. She whispered something else but this time she didn’t sound distressed. He let himself enjoy the feel of her against him, allowed himself to nuzzle slightly at the back of her neck, drawing the clean scent of her hair into every part of him. His arms tightened around her and he sighed as she nestled deeper against him. He could forget about getting any sleep now, he thought, as he yawned and gave up the fight with his eyes lids just before drifting off as he relaxed back into her.

Jen opened her eyes and wasn’t sure where she was at first. The shower was running. She glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed and froze. There was a wrist watch on the bedside table in front of the alarm clock. She’d dreamt that she slept in Stefan’s arms last night. That he’d curled around her and chased the shadows away. She’d slept better last night than she had in...well, she didn’t remember when. So now she knew she hadn’t dreamt it. She couldn’t decide if she was upset because she still couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t when it came to Stefan, or because she’d been unconscious while he held her. Or maybe she really was just crazy.

She sat up just as he walked out of the bathroom. He had a towel knotted around his hips and he was rubbing his hair with another towel. Every single one of her internal organs tried to switch places as she watched rivulets of water run down six foot three inches of golden, ripped muscles. Greek gods had nothing on Stefan Sellers, and she decided she was going to stop ragging him about avoiding carbs, because whatever he was doing was seriously working.

When he caught her watching him, he stopped short. “Hey.”

She just stared at him, wondering where all the oxygen in the room had suddenly gone. She could still feel the warmth of all those muscles pressed against her back, his arms around her. She could smell the spicy lime scent of him. It hadn’t been a dream.

Because he could read her mind, he said. “You had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” She didn’t remember having one, but hey, she didn’t remember lots of things these days. Except their fight. She remembered it in Technicolor and full stereo surround sound. Now looking at him mostly naked with his blonde hair in adorable spikes, she realized she really was crazy. Any sane woman would be throwing themselves at his feet. She’d certainly watched it happen before. But not Jen, oh no. The most eligible bachelor in Louisiana wanted to marry her, and she was worried about why. She tried to swallow but her mouth was like sandpaper. If she had any sense at all, she’d quit worrying about why and start concentrating on when. As in soon. Preferably, now.

“I’ve got to go into the office, but I’ll try to get done by lunch and we’ll see about finding you an SUV. Martin is already doing some recon.”

She nodded, watching as he disappeared into his closet.

She was still sitting up in bed, shell-shocked, when he walked back out dressed in a dark charcoal suit with micro-thin pinstripes, a gray shirt, and blue silk tie. It didn’t seem possible, but he was even sexier dressed. “Stefan,” she said, her voice hoarse and her throat sore. She must have really had a nightmare. Her throat felt like she’d been at a Saint’s game.

He grabbed his watch off the bedside table. He shook his head, warning her not to say anything. “You can have an SUV. It’s safer in the city and I’m sure you can use the cargo space. And I’ll look at your business plan. But you are not marrying the hippie. Are we clear?”

She nodded.

“And you are marrying me,” he added. “I had a plan, but you’ve blown it all to hell, and I can’t help that now. New Plan. First step, we find you a vehicle.”

She looked up at him and met his eyes. He was still angry but he had it under control. She had so many things she wanted to say to him that she wasn’t even sure where to start.

“Last night you said I didn’t have to,” she reminded him.

He groaned, the corners of his mouth going south. “I said no wedding, Jen. You should pay better attention. We’re still getting married. I’ll see you around noon.”

She nodded, and watched as he walked out of the room.  She rolled over, burying her face in the pillows, trying not to notice that they smelled like him, spicy lime and sandalwood. Relieved that the marriage she claimed she didn't want was still on, she wondered how she was going to marry him when he talked to her like that.  Okay, so he was right about the SUV, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

A dart of pain smashed into the center of her chest and radiated out. She closed her eyes and just absorbed it. Maybe, if she hadn’t gone to Paris, she would never have noticed what an arrogant ass he was. Pre-Paris Jen worshipped Stefan. Anything he’d said had been all right with her. But the Jen who’d come back from Paris just wanted to tear strips off him. And then kiss them and make them better.

She sat up. Brain damage or not, she absolutely was crazy. There was no other explanation.

She rolled out of bed and walked downstairs. The house was quiet except for the clicking on an antique grandfather clock that echoed through the silence. She stopped on the last two steps and sat down. She stared up at the massive chandelier. He’d bought this house for her. He’d spared no expense putting it back the way it should be. Jen could close her eyes and hear music and see ladies in long dresses sipping punch and dancing with handsome young men.

And her kitchen. She walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a yogurt container, shaking her head in awe. She smiled at the blender upended on a dish towel, the only evidence that Mr. Neat and Tidy had been there. No loose ends. Every box ticked. She stood in the kitchen, ate the yogurt and thought of ways to warm everything up. There was a perfect spot for her cookbooks. She needed a coffee maker. Her every instinct was to start turning this place into her home. Their home.

It was unbearable. There was no way she could just stay in this house. The longer she did, the more attached she got. This was Stefan’s house. This was not her home. Her home had been destroyed by the flood waters after Katrina. But even then she hadn’t lived there since her parents were killed years before. She’d lived with the Sellers at their house, then later at the lake house Mac had built for his wife when she refused to cross the Pontchartrain to rebuild. But none of those had ever been home. They were just places she’d lived.

Her throat got so tight even the yogurt wouldn’t go down. She dropped the cup in the garbage can under the sink. Washed the spoon and laid it by the upended blender. Tears blinded her without warning. Great, now she was crying over flatware and small appliances. It was just that she really wanted this to be home. She wanted to make this into a home for both of them. She wanted that happily ever after he’d promised her. She wanted to forget what Madlyn had said that night.

“He’ll regret it one day. If you love him, you won’t let him make this mistake.”

Jen really didn’t know what to do. But she did know that she simply could not wait around this house all day feeling little pieces of her heart shrivel and die. So she showered and refused to cry anymore. She changed into her favorite jeans and a simple blue shirt and comfortable shoes.

She felt much more like herself when she caught the St. Charles streetcar and rode it up to Canal Street, then walked the rest of the way to the tall, glass building that housed her father’s legacy. Mac had added a fountain to the entrance when they’d remodeled after Katrina, and Jen spent some time sitting in the lobby on the edge of the fountain trying to come up with an excuse to go upstairs. Wait, she owned half of this damned company. She didn’t need an excuse and she headed straight for the elevators.

Martin was not at his desk when she reached the top floor, but the door to Stefan’s office was not closed either. She heard voices before she stuck her head in. The deceptively friendly, sugar sweet drawl started acid brewing in Jen’s stomach. She braced herself then took a deep breath. Madlyn Robicheaux only looked venomous. She didn’t actually have fangs. Jen hoped.

Jen pushed the door open and stepped in without knocking. And there she was. The Red Queen herself. Sleek, jet black hair to go with dead shark eyes. Red power suit, black Pradas, and a red Birkin sitting neatly in the chair next to her as she and Stefan went over paperwork. She was the very picture of elegant business and class, as long as you didn’t mind the stench of decay. Jen was pretty sure there wasn’t another human being alive that she despised more.

Madlyn and Stefan had dated in college. She’d been his attorney since the moment she passed the bar. But even better, they remained very good friends. Very good friends with very good benefits. Jen might be Stefan’s go-to girl if he needed a silent sidekick at a business dinner when he was between girlfriends. But Madlyn was his go-to for sex when he was between girlfriends or even when he wasn’t. While everyone believed Stefan and Madlyn had ended things after college, Jen knew they hadn’t. She’d discovered firsthand what kind of relationship Stefan had with Madlyn. And unfortunately it was one of the few memories Jen had that she was absolutely sure was real, beyond a shadow of a doubt. Because Madlyn never let her forget it.

She’d seen them together once, the night she and Lizzie graduated from high school. Lizzie had skipped a grade so they had ended up graduating together. Mac and Nadine Sellers had thrown a huge party at the new house in Slidell. When everyone had left, Jen had gone looking for Stefan. He’d disappeared sometime around midnight, but Jen had wanted to tell him goodnight. His car had still been in the driveway.