Savor the Danger
Page 23
Even now, Dare wore an expensive pullover with untattered jeans. More upper-class in his style, Trace wore a button-up shirt and khakis.
That morning, he’d dressed in haste, anxious to get to Alani. But even if he hadn’t, Jackson knew he’d still have reached for the ancient jeans that, through the years, he’d worn in just right. The scuffed boots helped to hide his knife. And his array of T-shirts, some plain, some with raunchy sayings, always won out for being comfortable.
But next to the men Alani admired, did he fall short? She was a classy lady, always done up just right, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Even now, with the late sunshine warming her skin, leaving it dewy, she looked fresh and sweet. A breeze stirred the humid air, teasing her beautiful hair and carrying her unique scent to him. Jackson inhaled, filling his lungs with the aroma of woman.
His woman.
He wanted to drag her close, to stake a claim.
And the guys knew it. With their presence alone, they taunted him.
Jackson swallowed hard, tried to loosen up, and asked, “Everybody all talked out? We can drive a stake through the clandestine crap? Good. I’ll show you to the door.”
Not fooled at all, Dare snorted. “We still need to work out the setup.”
Moving to Jackson’s side, Alani took charge. “You should be sitting down.” She put her arm around him as if for support. Ignoring the fact that he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds and stood damn near a foot taller, she tried to urge him back toward the couch.
Unmanned by her mollycoddling, he stiffened. “I don’t need you to—”
Trace pushed past them. “If he can’t walk on his own steam, then leave him outside.”
“Wanna hold my hand?” Dare asked him.
“Ignore them,” Alani told Jackson. “I plan to.”
Provoked beyond reason, Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you okay?” She cupped the side of his face gently. “Does your head hurt?”
This mothering tendency of hers made him really uncomfortable. He hadn’t blushed since his early teens, but damned if he didn’t feel his ears getting hot.
“You’re warm,” she fussed. “Do you think you have a fever?”
“Poor baby,” Dare muttered, then snorted.
Jackson’s restraint broke. He wanted to take care of her, not the other way around. To prove to her that he wasn’t handicapped in any way, Jackson scooped her up into his arms.
“Jackson!”
He kissed her hard, and when she would have pulled away, he kept on kissing her, hugging her close, tilting his head for a better fit. He kissed her until she stopped fighting him.
Against her lips, he said, “Unless you want further proof that I’m fine, stop babying me.” And then he headed inside.
Dare snorted again, but he closed the door behind them.
Back in the living room, Jackson stood her on her feet. “Now, we need—oof.”
Her pointy elbow landed with unerring precision. He hadn’t braced for it because he hadn’t expected it. After being so sick that morning, his innards still felt sore, and she’d gotten him good.
A hand to his midsection, he straightened and stared at her. Her angelic expression lacked remorse.
As he stared down at her, incredulous, she smiled like a sinner. “Unless you want further proof that I object to manhandling, stop pushing me.”
By slow degrees, Jackson’s frown faded into a grin. “You want to play, darlin’?” More than a little aware of Dare and Trace standing back, giving him the opportunity to spar with her, Jackson said, “Oh, I love to play. Just know that paybacks are hell.”
Her eyes widened. “But you’re the one who started it by—”
“Children, please,” Trace said. “Recess is over.”
Wanting them gone, Jackson announced without preamble, “I’m taking her to my place.”
Dare rejected that idea. “Your place is where this all started.”
“No, not my apartment. My house.” To Alani, he said, “It’s not done yet, but it’s livable. It’ll give you a chance to think about designs and stuff. The plumbing is operational, and the security is already in place.”
Alani shook her head. “You’re taking a lot for granted.”
Ignoring that, Jackson added to the men, “It’s plenty private, too. We won’t have to worry about passersby or visitors.”
Dare considered it. “You used a different name when hiring the builders?”
“Alternate identity down the line.” In an aside to Alani, he explained, “I always use an alias. Safer that way.”
“Get real, Jackson. Trace is my brother, so I’m already aware of the need for secrecy.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s why you didn’t give old Marc my last name the day I met him?”
“Of course.”
“Brains are so damn sexy.” And while she sputtered over that, he said to Dare, “Everything was paid for in cash. No one can track the location to me.”
Trace chewed on the idea. “You’re what? An hour or so from where I live?”
“’Bout that.” Close enough to appease Trace, but far enough away that he’d have plenty of alone time with Alani. It’d just be the two of them, sunshine, water, nature…a perfect setup for romance.
Alani shook her head again. “No.”
“It’s isolated enough,” Dare said. “You have a boat?”
That morning, he’d dressed in haste, anxious to get to Alani. But even if he hadn’t, Jackson knew he’d still have reached for the ancient jeans that, through the years, he’d worn in just right. The scuffed boots helped to hide his knife. And his array of T-shirts, some plain, some with raunchy sayings, always won out for being comfortable.
But next to the men Alani admired, did he fall short? She was a classy lady, always done up just right, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Even now, with the late sunshine warming her skin, leaving it dewy, she looked fresh and sweet. A breeze stirred the humid air, teasing her beautiful hair and carrying her unique scent to him. Jackson inhaled, filling his lungs with the aroma of woman.
His woman.
He wanted to drag her close, to stake a claim.
And the guys knew it. With their presence alone, they taunted him.
Jackson swallowed hard, tried to loosen up, and asked, “Everybody all talked out? We can drive a stake through the clandestine crap? Good. I’ll show you to the door.”
Not fooled at all, Dare snorted. “We still need to work out the setup.”
Moving to Jackson’s side, Alani took charge. “You should be sitting down.” She put her arm around him as if for support. Ignoring the fact that he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds and stood damn near a foot taller, she tried to urge him back toward the couch.
Unmanned by her mollycoddling, he stiffened. “I don’t need you to—”
Trace pushed past them. “If he can’t walk on his own steam, then leave him outside.”
“Wanna hold my hand?” Dare asked him.
“Ignore them,” Alani told Jackson. “I plan to.”
Provoked beyond reason, Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you okay?” She cupped the side of his face gently. “Does your head hurt?”
This mothering tendency of hers made him really uncomfortable. He hadn’t blushed since his early teens, but damned if he didn’t feel his ears getting hot.
“You’re warm,” she fussed. “Do you think you have a fever?”
“Poor baby,” Dare muttered, then snorted.
Jackson’s restraint broke. He wanted to take care of her, not the other way around. To prove to her that he wasn’t handicapped in any way, Jackson scooped her up into his arms.
“Jackson!”
He kissed her hard, and when she would have pulled away, he kept on kissing her, hugging her close, tilting his head for a better fit. He kissed her until she stopped fighting him.
Against her lips, he said, “Unless you want further proof that I’m fine, stop babying me.” And then he headed inside.
Dare snorted again, but he closed the door behind them.
Back in the living room, Jackson stood her on her feet. “Now, we need—oof.”
Her pointy elbow landed with unerring precision. He hadn’t braced for it because he hadn’t expected it. After being so sick that morning, his innards still felt sore, and she’d gotten him good.
A hand to his midsection, he straightened and stared at her. Her angelic expression lacked remorse.
As he stared down at her, incredulous, she smiled like a sinner. “Unless you want further proof that I object to manhandling, stop pushing me.”
By slow degrees, Jackson’s frown faded into a grin. “You want to play, darlin’?” More than a little aware of Dare and Trace standing back, giving him the opportunity to spar with her, Jackson said, “Oh, I love to play. Just know that paybacks are hell.”
Her eyes widened. “But you’re the one who started it by—”
“Children, please,” Trace said. “Recess is over.”
Wanting them gone, Jackson announced without preamble, “I’m taking her to my place.”
Dare rejected that idea. “Your place is where this all started.”
“No, not my apartment. My house.” To Alani, he said, “It’s not done yet, but it’s livable. It’ll give you a chance to think about designs and stuff. The plumbing is operational, and the security is already in place.”
Alani shook her head. “You’re taking a lot for granted.”
Ignoring that, Jackson added to the men, “It’s plenty private, too. We won’t have to worry about passersby or visitors.”
Dare considered it. “You used a different name when hiring the builders?”
“Alternate identity down the line.” In an aside to Alani, he explained, “I always use an alias. Safer that way.”
“Get real, Jackson. Trace is my brother, so I’m already aware of the need for secrecy.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s why you didn’t give old Marc my last name the day I met him?”
“Of course.”
“Brains are so damn sexy.” And while she sputtered over that, he said to Dare, “Everything was paid for in cash. No one can track the location to me.”
Trace chewed on the idea. “You’re what? An hour or so from where I live?”
“’Bout that.” Close enough to appease Trace, but far enough away that he’d have plenty of alone time with Alani. It’d just be the two of them, sunshine, water, nature…a perfect setup for romance.
Alani shook her head again. “No.”
“It’s isolated enough,” Dare said. “You have a boat?”
