Vulnerable (Morgans of Nashville) (22 page)

He turned, caught her sizing him up, and pushed her against the door, pinning her arms above her head. His dark hair was rumpled and beard stubble covered his square jaw.

Should she tease him and make him suffer for hesitating moments ago, or go down on him right here in the hallway?

He watched, waiting for the signal from her, and released her arms. He’d always been good at instruction. Following orders. She took his face in her hands, savoring the feel of his warm skin. She pulled him toward hers and slowly kissed him.

He leaned into the kiss, cupping his hand at the base of her neck and pushing his tongue into her mouth as if he were half starved. His other hand glided up under her silk blouse past her narrow waist. He cupped her full breast, teasing the hard nipple with his fingertips as he deepened the kiss.

Her heartbeat skipped and then rattled faster in her chest as she grew moist. Ah, this was what she needed. She reached for the waistband of his sweats and slipped her hand inside, softly stroking his hard erection. He moaned her name as he broke the kiss and pushed up her shirt so he could suck her breast.

Closing her eyes, sensation overtook her. She was aware of his other hand unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them down just as she had once taught him. His hand moved inside her panties, but instead of touching her center, he teased the edges of her curls.

“I do the teasing, not you,” she whispered as she bit his earlobe and tugged.

As instructed, he began to rub her and she arched into him. She kicked off her heels, squirmed out of her pants, and stepped out.

This time when she kissed him, she rubbed her half-naked body against his erection until she knew it throbbed. Swearing, he jerked down his sweats and hiking up one of her legs, pushed hard into her. She cupped his buttocks as he thrust inside her with a frenzy that excited her. She could feel him climaxing. He wanted release and soon would beg for it.

“Not yet, lover,” she said. “Me first.”

“I hate it when you do this.”

“You love it.”

She held off on her own orgasm, knowing as he drove into her with growing need, he was suffering. Finally, she found her release and closed her eyes.

His body remained taut like corded steel, but he waited for her command.

“Now,” she said. “Now, you may come.”

Tim drove into her with a frantic energy and quickly exploded. He dropped his face to the hollow of her neck, his breathing hard and ragged. His fisted fingers relaxed and rested on her shoulders. She raised her hand to rub his back the way she used to. But she stopped. That kind of touch was too intimate, too personal, and he had not yet earned it. Instead, she lowered to her knees and took him in her mouth for another round.

When he finally regained his breath, he braced both of his hands beside her head and looked into her eyes. Now that her itch was gone, she felt bored and ready to leave.

“Stay the night,” he said. “We’ll talk at breakfast.”

The air around them cooled and, half dressed, she realized how vulnerable she was now. “I can’t. I have to go. I need to be there when Mrs. Reed wakes up.”

“What’s the deal with you two?”

“She needs a friend.” She traced a circle around the center of his chest over his heart. “And you know, I can be a very good friend.”

He traced his finger along her chin. “Sleep here.”

“Better I go now.”

He arched a dark brow. “You mean while it’s dark and no one can see you leave.”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s always that way with us.” Frustration coated the words. “We’ve been at this since high school, and you still won’t tell anyone about us.” He captured a strand of her hair, wrapping it softly around his hand. “I want more.”

His voice annoyed her. “Nothing happens until I say it does, lover. But I know of a way you can earn a few points that might sway me.”

 

W
hen Jake arrived at Rudy’s, he was dog tired but had heard from Rick that Georgia had landed a slot onstage at the last minute. As much as he needed to work, to sleep, he couldn’t resist seeing her sing.

The bar was crowded and most hovered close to the stage where Georgia held the mic close to her mouth and sang Faith Hill’s “Breathe.” As her voice echoed through the room, energy moved through him, tightening around his heart like a fist. What the hell was it about her that got under his skin?

She leaned into the mic, closed her eyes, and her voice summoned sadness, loss, and frustration from the song. She could hit all the high and low notes with perfect pitch, but it was the emotion she so freely injected into each note that grabbed her audience and held them tight. Emotions he’d kept long locked in a very secure place burned in the center of his chest and coaxed feelings he’d not had since Boston.

“She’s so good,” KC said as he dried a tumbler with a bar towel. “Hard to take your eyes off her.”

Jake turned, surprised to be caught staring. “She’s great.” He reached for the half-full glass of ice water and took a long drink, astonished that his throat was so dry.

“I’m puzzled someone hasn’t snapped her up,” KC said, a teasing note woven around the words.

“She’s mean as a snake,” Jake said, setting down his glass harder than he anticipated. “Pretty to look at and nice to listen to, but don’t get too close. She’ll bite your head off.”

KC laughed as he carefully stacked the glasses next to a dozen others. “That’s what keeps it interesting, don’t you think? That’s what I loved about my late wife. So nice and kind to many, but she kept me on my toes. She never minced words when she was pissed at me.”

“How long were you married?” His gaze followed a drip of water down the side of the chilled glass.

“Twenty-five years.”

“That’s something.”

KC’s eyes dulled a fraction. “Sounds like a long time, but now it just seems like a blink.”

Jake had been engaged to Alice less than two months. They’d planned a spring wedding. That moment went by so fast there were days he wondered if it were real. “Life goes so fast. It’s over before you know it.”

“Yeah.” KC set the bar glass down as Georgia finished her song. “So you gonna nut up and ask her out?”

Jake carefully pushed his glass a few inches away. “Who?”

KC snorted a laugh. “Don’t bullshit me, son. You know who.”

Jake shrugged, deciding he’d rather play dumb than out his feelings for Georgia Morgan and suffer her wrath. “As soon as I get my tetanus shot.”

KC laughed. “Pussy.”

Jake grinned. The old man was right. Applause roaring in the room, Jake watched as Georgia seated her mic into the stand and turned toward the band. She paused to thank the other singer, who had stepped aside so she could sing a set, and the guitarist before climbing off the stage.

Several folks from the crowd rushed to Georgia as she exited the stage. She tossed back a lock of that red hair that she allowed to tumble free while she sang and smiled. At first glance, the smile looked electric, warm, and welcoming. But as he studied her face, he could see her jaw was set just a fraction and her shoulders stiff. Whatever emotions flowed so freely while she sang were now shut off, no different than twisting the spigot of a water faucet.

KC filled an iced glass with diet soda and lemon and handed it to Georgia as she approached the bar. Jake watched as long fingers with neatly short, unpolished nails raised the glass to her lips. As she drank, his gaze settled on the slim line of her pale neck.

She set the glass down on the bar. “That was fun. Thank Fancy again for letting me sit in on her band. I appreciate the time.”

KC raised a glass toward Fancy as she took center stage. She returned a smile, as if understanding the small favor she granted would earn more stage time at Rudy’s. “She was glad to do it. She likes you as much as the customers.”

Georgia traced her finger down the line of moisture on the side of her glass. “Is Carrie working tonight?”

KC frowned. “Called in sick.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Sounded like she had a cold.”

Shaking her head, she dug her phone out of her back pocket and dialed Carrie’s number. The woman answered on the second ring.

“Carrie,” she said. “It’s Georgia. I hear you have a cold.” She listened, nodding her head. “You sound rough. Head all stopped up?”

Jake listened, not interfering, but ready to act if Georgia asked.

She drummed her fingers on the bar. “I can bring you some soup? And I promise I won’t make it myself.”

Laughter crackled through the line. “Okay. See you soon? Great.”

Georgia ended the call. “Sounds legit.”

KC nodded. “Good. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Thanks.”

“Everything all right?” Jake asked.

She faced him. “Sounds like it.”

“Let me know if it’s not,” he said. “I can pay him a visit. Send a car by their house.”

The offer touched her. “No thanks, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Shaking off the worry, she shifted the conversation. Nodding toward the stage, she asked, “So what did you think?”

Jake kept his gaze on her eyes, as if resisting the tug of instinct to follow the long line of her neck down to the very end of the V-neck. “The singing wasn’t half bad. You got pipes.”

“You. Got. Pipes.” An auburn brow arched. “I pour my soul into that song and all you can say is ‘you got pipes’?”

He liked the irritation humming in her voice. Liked the spark of challenge in her emerald gaze. “It was pretty good.”

“It was great,” she countered. “It was the best I’ve sung in a long time.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’ve been half-assing it until I showed up? I’m flattered, Georgia.”

KC barked out a laugh and moved down the bar as if he wanted to be free of the blast zone.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

A faint scent of perfume wafted around her. He’d not smelled the scent on her before. He liked it.

“Then what’re you saying, Georgia?”

She lifted her glass to her lips. “Let’s say everything clicked tonight.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

She settled on the bar stool next to him, her posture a little less stiff. She was comfortable around him. She stifled a yawn and rolled her head from side to side much like her brother Rick did when he was tired. “So what did Marlowe say about the picture?”

Ah, they were back to the job. Always the safest thing to discuss. “He didn’t recognize the guy.”

Bracelets jangled as she ran her fingers through her hair. He saw the fatigue humming below the frustration. “I’ve been trying to track Amber down to ask, but Mrs. Reed says she’s out and not answering her cell.”

“You think this guy in Austin was the one sending the texts to Amber?”

“Could be.”

“Why is he attracted to this type of girl?”

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple and he was so damn tempted to brush it away, but thought better of it. “I stopped trying to figure out what makes these guys tick. I just lock them up.”

As she sipped her soda, she shifted and the spotlight dangling above the bar caught the coppery curls of her hair as well as the dark circles under her eyes. She stifled a yawn.

“When’s the last time you slept?” His voice sounded concerned.

“I had a good night’s sleep.”

“This week?”

“A couple of nights ago.” She raised her glass, smiling. “I’m good for a solid night’s sleep at least once a week.”

“You’re the Energizer Bunny.”

“Something like that.”

Jake dug a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and tossed it on the bar. “I’m headed home. I need a few hours of sleep before I hit it hard in the morning.”

She rolled her head from side to side. “I’m doing the same if I can get up off this stool. I dread the drive across town.”

“I’m three blocks from here. You’re welcome to my spare room.”

A sly smile tipped the edges of her lips. “Nice try, Bishop.”

“I’m too tired to be smooth. I’m offering the bed in my spare room. I need sleep. You need sleep. My house is blocks from here, not fifteen miles away like your apartment.”

Eyes narrowing, she studied him as if she was waiting for the punch line. “So is this a new tactic for you?”

He leaned toward her a fraction. “If I wanted you in my bed, I’d just straight up ask. I don’t need a gimmick to get a woman in my bed.”

Her eyes warmed before they cooled. “I’ve heard.”

He made no apologies for the number of women he’d slept with in the past. He was single and he liked sex without commitment. But since Georgia, the attention he paid the other women had been more for show. “You coming or not, Morgan? I’m really tired and I got to be going.”

She tapped an index finger against the side of her glass as if ticking through the pros and cons of taking him up on his offer. “I hate it when you sound so logical.”

He dug his keys out. “Leave your car in KC’s lot. You can drive with me.”

“I’m sleeping in the spare room.”

“That is what I offered.”

She bit her bottom lip and then stood as if coming to a decision. “I’ve got to get my purse from the back.”

“Hurry up. I need shut-eye.”

He watched her walk away, wondering how he was going to sleep at all tonight knowing she was in the room across from his.

“So what’s going on between you two?” KC asked.

Jake dug his keys out of his pocket. “I offered a room for the night. My place is a hell of a lot closer than hers.”

KC shook his head. “So you do like her.”

“I do.”

KC leaned forward, his gnarled right hand clenching the bar rag. “I know she’s an adult. And she’d skin me alive if she heard me asking, but you’re not going to break her heart, are you?”

His gaze scanned the bar, always watching, always expecting trouble. “No, but she might break my heart.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Stop worrying.” He straightened, realizing he was speaking to Buddy Morgan’s stand-in. “I’ve offered her a place to sleep for the night.”

KC scratched the back of his bald head. “I didn’t think she liked you that well.”

“How much does she have to like me to sleep in the spare room?”

KC shook his head. “That I don’t know.”

Jake was laughing when Georgia appeared with her purse, jacket, and a small go-bag that he knew held the clothes she’d wear to the office tomorrow.

Georgia glanced at KC. “If you tell any of my brothers, I’ll tell everyone I know that you’re a secret scout for the top record producers in Nashville.”

Jake didn’t know much about music but knew that kind of rumor was enough to bring every wannabe singer flocking to the bar. KC wouldn’t be able to walk down the street without someone trying to shove a publicity photo or demo in his hand.

“Hey, no reason to get that nasty,” KC said, glancing from side to side as if he was afraid she might already have started a vicious rumor. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She winked and blew him a kiss. “And your secret is safe with me, Record Man.”

With KC groaning as he smiled, Jake followed her out the back of the bar and down the long narrow hallway to the back door and the small parking lot that KC kept for singers and the few lucky ones he happened to be fond of at the time.

* * *

Jake unlocked the car, and as tempted as he was to open her door, held back as she tossed her bag in the backseat and then slid into the passenger seat.

Behind the wheel he turned over the engine as she reached for the radio and changed his jazz station to a country-western station.

“Don’t change the setting on my radio, Morgan. Took me a while to get it just right.”

“I haven’t changed anything. Just picked a better station.” She settled back in her seat and seconds later leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

He drove, enjoying having her at his side. It felt right having her close. He sure as hell did not know what that meant but he accepted that whatever was happening now was taking them in the right direction.

Ten minutes later, he parked in front of his house located in the Germantown section of Nashville. It was small but had been fully renovated. His pop was a hell of a craftsman and had even driven to Nashville to build the cabinets in the spare room as a housewarming gift. Though Jake could hold his own with most carpenters, thanks to a half dozen summers working for his old man, he wasn’t an artisan like him.

When he’d first moved to Nashville, the days in patrol were long and hard, but even after an hour or so of lifting weights in the gym, he had been full of energy he couldn’t shake. So when he’d come home, he’d spend a couple of more hours knocking out walls or painting until he was too tired to remember Boston.

“We’re here,” he said as he shut off the engine.

She opened her eyes, shaking sleep from her head and straightened. She glanced toward the house and hesitated. Laughing, he reached in the backseat for her bag and met her on the other side of the car. He moved toward the front door, lit by a strong halo of light from an overhead bulb and opened the door. A flip of the switch and the inside appeared.

She set her purse down, allowing her gaze to wander the open living, dining, and kitchen area. It held a large leather couch flanked by two club chairs, a large coffee table with sports magazines and a couple of remotes. Of course, the large television screen set in the corner. The walls were painted a light brown to match the central carpet picked out by a gal he had dated a couple of years ago.

The place was neat and organized.