Double Trouble (13 page)

Read Double Trouble Online

Authors: Deborah Cooke

Tags: #Contemporary Romance

BOOK: Double Trouble
11.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh yes, with some encouragement from my pals at the IRS.”

Sympathy crossed James’ expression. “He really left you in a bind, didn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but I was dumb enough to believe him a lot of times when I shouldn’t have.”

“You were young.”

“Got over that, didn’t I?” I put down my chopsticks. “The worst thing was that it kept coming. Just when I thought I was getting it covered, another debt would pop up. It was pretty discouraging.”

“You should have asked for help.”

“As if!” I was indignant.

“We could have afforded it, then.”

“Oh yes, and the check wouldn’t have come with a little lecture on what a miserable wretch of a failure I was. Oh, and Marcia could have told my dad that she had to support me because of my stupid choices yada yada yada. I think not.”

“It wouldn’t have been that bad.” Our gazes caught and held. I lifted one brow in a parody of his query and he smiled. “Maybe.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I prefer to owe no one anything. No expectations, no dependents, no chance of letting anyone down. Keeps life clean and simple.”

“That’s a tough code, Maralys.”

“It’s a learned response.” I gathered up the dishes and started to put them in the Rubbermaid bin beside the sink. “Gotta clean up now. Your forty-five minutes must be about up. Advice has been given, dinner has been consumed. Email Aunt Mary if you need more advice and let the world have a look at your troubles.” I gave him a challenging look. “That would be your cue to exit stage left.”

James folded his arms on the counter and didn’t move. His eyes were gleaming in that way that I was learning meant trouble. “Just when things get interesting? I don’t think so.” He was watching again, looking for clues. “So, how did you learn this response?”

“That is none of your damn business.”

He unfolded himself from the stool and strolled closer, his gaze locked with mine. “Isn’t it?” he whispered and I was afraid then, really afraid, that he
knew
.

Panic city. Fight or flight response was in serious overdrive.

“None,” I insisted, a little too breathless to be truly emphatic.

James halted, not a step away from me, and lifted one finger to my cheek. His touch was warm, gentle. It should have been non-threatening, but my heart was thumping. My mouth went dry and I wanted nothing better than to bolt. I was thinking far, the Sahara might be good. I could smell not just that cologne but the musk of his skin, I could feel the weight of his gaze as he sought my secrets.

I knew the one he wanted.

I tried to bury it. Fast.

When James kept watching me, I closed my eyes and averted my face, about the best I could do.

“Maralys, you are so full of it.” His whisper was soft yet compelling. There was unexpected affection in his tone. His fingertip slid down to my chin, urging me to face him again. There was absolutely no air in the loft, a remarkable thing. “I didn’t tell you all of the truth.”

That worked. I glanced up in surprise and couldn’t look away from his intent gaze. I couldn’t even come up with the obvious question. His thumb slipped across my bottom lip, gently tugging the flesh and making me tingle in anticipation.

“Because I came for something besides advice.”

Danger danger. Four alarm fire in the hold. I found myself leaning forward, knowing damn well what James had come for and wanting a bit of it myself. His finger moved south, down my neck and to the lace edge of my bra.

I didn’t step away—quite the contrary, I unfastened the next button on my shirt. He swallowed and caught his breath, then his hand eased inside my shirt so slowly that I could have stopped him if I wanted to. I didn’t, though I caught my breath when he cupped my breast in his palm. His thumb moved across the nipple, which was already pretty enthused about what he was doing.

We stood for an eternity like that, cloaked in the shadows of the loft, serenaded by Ella and the distant rumble of traffic, staring into each other’s eyes while his thumb moved back and forth, back and forth. Oh yeah, Ella, in Boston even beans do it. I could have sworn that I could hear James’ heartbeat, almost as loudly as I could hear my own.

It was one of the most achingly romantic moments of my life. There was yearning in the air, yearning and admiration and the unfurling of dormant desires. It was a moment of possibility and promise. It was a moment that I didn’t want to end.

Or that I only wanted to end in one way.

James bent his head slowly, giving me lots of room to escape if that was what I wanted. You know that I didn’t. I tipped my head back to meet him, closed my eyes and was sure that I was tasting heaven when he kissed me.

His other hand landed on the back of my waist, urging me closer, and I felt the heat of his erection against my stomach. He kissed me slowly, lingeringly, as if acquainting himself with my unfamiliar territory.

Then, by some kind of silent mutual consent, we started to dance. I put my hands on his shoulders and knew where I wanted this dance to end. There was nothing but James, his kiss and his teasing thumb, his tenderness and heat.

This was dangerous stuff, a dance with the devil, a kiss that compelled me to forget every principle to which I’d ever pledged allegiance. In that moment, on that night, I didn’t care.

I slipped my tongue between his teeth. He groaned and caught me closer.

And that was when the alarm went on his watch.

We parted, breathless, and discomfiture set in with record speed. James stopped the alarm and gave an apologetic shrug. “I guess timing really is everything.” He sounded breathless, his voice a bit husky.

I took a deep breath, appreciating only now how close I had come to making a Big Mistake. Another big mistake in a long list of big mistakes. I had serious experience at BigMistake.com.

“Probably for the better,” I said firmly and pivoted. I marched back to my dishes. I quickly refastened my shirt and realized that my cheeks were burning.

James was right behind me, irk coming out of his ears. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I won’t be a surrogate for my twin.” I squirted dishwashing soap over the mess with unnecessary force. “So don’t try getting your rocks off on me again.”

“Is that what you think that was about?” His outraged tone told me that he thought otherwise, but I know when I’m right.

I was right. Except that maybe I was getting my rocks off on him. Either way, it was plain old lust dressed up in fancy glad rags, lust that came with a whole heap of trouble fast on its patent heels.

“Obviously!” I turned and glared at him. “What else could it have been about?”

James smiled then, a sphinx smile that make me remember that hapless hunted mouse. He leaned closer, eyes shining, looking damn near good enough to eat. “I have a theory, Maralys, one that I’ve been wondering about for a long long time.”

That was worrisome, but I brazened it out. “Oh, great, a science lesson. Don’t you need a hypothesis before you can have a theory?”

James continued as if he hadn’t heard me, an annoying choice. “That theory is the real reason I had to see you tonight.”

“What kind of a theory?”

But James was leaving, deliberately leaving my curiosity un-sated. As well as a few other things. He walked toward the elevator, snagging his jacket en route.

“I asked you what kind of a theory?” I shouted, well and truly worried. I hate being ignored, but that wasn’t all of it.

The stupid elevator was still there, giving me no time to get answers. James pivoted in it, offering no more than a smug smile before he hit the button. “You’ll see. But, in case you’re interested, I’m pretty sure I’m right.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” I roared through the grate, but the only answer was the sound of James’s chuckle echoing in the shaft.

He wasn’t going to tell me. He was banking on my curiosity, on my following him to find out the truth. It wasn’t going to work. I wasn’t going after him. I’d done my bit, more really than anyone could have expected of me, and wasn’t getting further involved. No way, José.

I am an island, I exist devoid of ties and dependencies. I am independent woman, a rare breed but one in need of no mate, no herd, no offspring. I am Amazon. I suck men dry and chuck them back. I need no protector. I hunt alone.

I raged back to the dishes and punctuated each of my conclusions with the banging of something substantial.

I was
not
wading into the mire of their divorce.

I was
not
going to keep James warm while he got over Marcia’s leaving.

I was
not
going to stand substitute for my twin. Never. Non-negotiable. Uh uh.

I was
not
going to bolster his ego, which probably was long overdue for a reality check. Not me. I had work to do. Yes, and advice to give.

Sounded pretty thin in comparison to a wild night between the sheets and/or knowing what the hell his theory was. James knew me too well—not knowing what he meant would indeed drive me nuts.

Not for the first time, I felt the urge to murder James Coxwell, and to do it slowly. I was sure I would enjoy it. I was sure that he deserved it.

There was one small fly in the ointment here. I was not entirely innocent. I had lied to him tonight. My conscience twinged, even though it had been a perfectly permissible white lie.

I hadn’t hated college. I had loved it. But quite suddenly, I hadn’t loved Boston. I had had to get out, to shake off everything and everyone I had known. The teaching slot in Japan had been a godsend because it had offered a timely escape. I went because I was on the run, not because I wanted to travel or even that I particularly wanted to go to Japan.

The most important thing about Japan had been that Boston wasn’t in it.

That was why I had stayed an extra year. The contracts are for two years initially and only the hardy stay on. At the end of two years, I hadn’t been ready to come back. Only my mother’s final illness brought me back in the end, and even then, I dragged my feet all across the Pacific. It’s not as if there was much of a reward for me doing that, anyhow. If I had any sense, I’d still be there, speaking Japanese and living in the smallest, cleanest apartment ever known to mankind.

The reason for my hasty departure all those many moons ago? Oh, it’s simple. People are rats. You put your trust in one, you count on one, and sooner or later, he’s going to let you down. I’ve learned that lesson twice and I’m not going back for more. I depend on no one and let no one depend on me.

I added that to my list.

The annoying thing about James was that he thought he had my number, but I could outwait him, I knew I could. He might have baited a trap, but unlike most of the members of class rodentia of my acquaintance, I would not take that peanut butter.

Not me.

James could wait to hear from me for the rest of his ever-loving life. I had done all that I could to help him out—no, I had done
more
than any mere sister-in-law could be expected to do, and that out of the goodness of my wizened little heart, and what had it gotten me?

He’d copped a feel in gratitude. Put like that—which wasn’t exactly how I remembered it but was how I was going to choose to remember it—my choice was clear.

The gates were closed, the barricades were up, the moat was filled. Call out the dragons and dragoons, no one gets in here alive. Let James have all the theories he wanted, I did not care. I would not care. I was going to color my hair Passionate Persimmon and then I was going to bed alone.

Again.

Hmm. Captain Vibrator would have another busy night, I could just tell. It’s never as good as the real thing, which isn’t usually an issue for me, but on this night, the realization made me grind my teeth. No, although Cap’n V has his charms, there’s nothing as good as a man, filling the bed and warming it, growling at you in the morning.

Among other things. I hadn’t been this zinged up in years, which should have been a warning. It was just a healthy impulse to hope that someone had dragged their keys along the side of whatever fancy sedan James had parked on the street outside.

Captain V was the man of my dreams, for that night and every night. And for your information—those of you intent on seeing things that aren’t there—Cap’n V has always had hazel eyes with kind of a gold crown around the pupil, so don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.

I checked my email on the dinosaur, just to see if anything had shaken out since my unauthorized acquisition of financial data. There was a bit of inevitable spam, and that ghastly poem from Dennis.

I had the urge to tell him to stick to piracy and forget the swashbuckle, but knew I had to do better to be rid of him for good.

----

Subject
: re: brews

Great idea! The twins are dying for a fresh start—Utah would be perfect! No trouble with school—they’ve both been expelled. I’m sure that a note of support from you would persuade the judge to let them out of the state. And don’t worry—they’re old enough to know when to turn a blind eye.

::nudge, nudge, wink, wink::

I’ll bet you’re a guy who has a few bucks to show a girl a good time—unlike the snake I checked out the other night. :-P Grrr. All show and no go.

Just send three one-way tickets, Dennis querido, and we’ll be there. (I can hold the baby on my lap, so don’t worry about her.) Oh, better send me one for first class. Those coach seats are just too tight for me, esp on such a long flight. (btw, it’s so *NICE* to meet a guy online who doesn’t ask for pix first.)

ttys—no, SEE you soon

your querida, the donut queen

----

Ha. That ought to do it. And now, Cap’n V. baby, I’m all yours. I deserve a reward, after all, for a job well done.

Chapter Seven

----

Subject
: LIFE!

Dear Aunt Mary -

There are so many things I want to do with my life, but I’m afraid to screw up. How do I get over my fear of taking risks?

Or should I?

Timid Tess

Other books

A Year at River Mountain by Michael Kenyon
Ashton And Justice by Hecht, Stephani
Delphi by Scott, Michael
The Accident by Linwood Barclay
First We Take Manhattan by Mina MacLeod
Bark: Stories by Lorrie Moore
For Love of Livvy by J. M. Griffin
Roaring Boys by Judith Cook
His Price by Leah Holt