Inked by an Angel (4 page)

Jed didn’t say a word. He kept driving until they reached her house. Kyle bit her lower lip. It was obvious he hated her. She just wasn’t sure why she had let the question pop out. What did she care if he hated her? She was tired and his hostility had worn her down. And his pheromones had apparently caused a clog in the filter between her brain and her mouth.

He pulled his gas-guzzling (and, she’d die before admitting, sexy) car up in front of her small condo. Before she could touch the handle, he hopped out and rounded the hood to open the door for her. She stepped out with a small smile of thanks. He followed her to the front door and waited while she rifled through her purse for her key and slid it in the lock. She opened the door and flipped on the entryway light then turned to say goodnight.

“Thank—”

“I don’t hate you,” he interrupted.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry if you thought that.” He glanced down.

She studied him in the light spilling out from her house. Idly, she wondered if her nosy neighbors chose this particular moment to spy on her, what they would think to see him standing there. Tall, bald, tattooed, pierced, sexy-as-hell, exuding testosterone like a chemical reactor. She took the moment of uncomfortable silence—it wasn’t often that Jed Gentry was struck to silence by his own obvious discomfort—to study him.

“Does it hurt?”

He tucked his thumb in a belt loop and leaned his weight to one side. “Does
what
hurt?”

She pointed to just below her own bottom lip. “That. Or a tattoo. Any of it.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose that depends on your own pain tolerance.” He smiled. Suddenly she was so fascinated with the little black stud beneath his lower lip that she couldn’t take her eyes off of it. He licked his lips. “Muffet?”

“Hmmm?”

“You lookin’ to get something done?”

“Like what?” Her eyes stayed glued to his fascinatingly beautiful face. He was so different from her and she found him so perfect.

He stepped closer to her, close enough to take her hand in his. He took her fingertips and brought them up to touch the little stud that held her attention so raptly.

She sucked in a breath and caressed the cool metal. His eyes never moved from her face.

She took her time learning the feel of him as her hand slid to his chin, where she felt his day’s growth of stubble. He was mesmerizing.

Painstakingly slow, he guided her fingers up his cheek, to the small ring in his brow.

Again, his eyes captured and held hers. There was something there.

Behind her there was a distant ringing, but she stayed perfectly still.

His face inched closer. She cupped his cheek as her eyes fluttered closed. His warm breath caressed her skin.

The ringing stopped and a familiar voice intruded on the hush of the moment with a jolt.

“Kyle, uhm, it’s Charles.” Hiccup. “I need you to pick me up . . .” Followed by a muffled noise and Michael’s voice saying something about taking him home before the line went dead.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Jed was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. She dropped her hand to her side.

“I have to go,” he whispered. Then he turned and walked away.

When Kyle showed up at the country club the next morning, Charles was as pale as the toilet he’d sheepishly admitted to hugging all night and nobody seemed to notice. Or her family was just too polite to say anything as they air-kissed and conversed their way around golf and politics. Luckily, talk of Kyle’s recent defection from the business was on hiatus. Priorities.

“So, darling.” Kyle’s mother smiled her piranha-in-a-fishbowl smile and pulled her aside, smelling heavily of her overpriced department store perfume and an early morning cocktail. “Have you and Charles set a date for the wedding yet? You know we have to get a jump on things if we want to get the club. They need at least two years notice, you know. They book up so fast, but I am friends with the manager’s wife and I could probably pull a few strings if the two of you wanted to have a spring wedding next year.” She stared off in the distance and got misty eyed. “That would be so lovely, wouldn’t it, Kyle? A spring wedding?”

Kyle looked over at her severely hung-over fiancé. He was hanging in there, she’d give him that, while her father pounded his back and plied him with cigars and talk of the latest mergers, business or otherwise. She glanced across the room at the patently unfaithful Mr. Washburn, her father’s golf buddy.

“Kyle?” Her mother’s impatient voice brought her attention back.

“Yes? What was that? Oh, right. Spring. Well, actually, Charles and I haven’t decided what we want just yet.” She glanced at her green about the gills mate and gave him a small smile of support. She turned back to her mother. “I was kind of hoping for something small. Maybe something on a beach.”

Her mother’s mouth fell open and then closed a couple of times like a fish out of water. “A . . . a beach? What are you saying, Kyle? Absolutely not! Why, that would be unheard of!”

Kyle felt a now familiar pulsation beginning behind her eyes, which had lately been a precursor to horrible migraine headaches. She studied her mother’s pinched face, trying to understand. “Why would it be unheard of, Mother? People do it all the time.”

Her mother tilted her head and gave her that look that said:
Because I’m the mother, that’s why.

Kyle rubbed her head. “Whatever. Can we discuss this later?”

Her mother said nothing. A trill of feminine laughter carried from the other side of the clubhouse and Kyle turned. That subtle beginning of a headache suddenly became a full-blown-whammy.

“Ah, shit,” she said under her breath. Was there no place she was safe?

“Excuse me, young lady?” her mother admonished.

She turned to get Charles’s attention so they could get the heck out of Dodge, but it was too late.

The pheromones preceded him in all their glory and her knees wanted to buckle. He strutted over, his hand at the small of an older woman’s back. He studied her with his intense blue eyes. His deep voice reached right into places she wanted to forget about and made things hum and thrum she’d rather not. She hated it. She wanted to hate him.

“Muffet.”

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em
.
Kill ‘em with kindness
.
You catch more flies with honey than vinegar
. Apparently, one of these was Jed Gentry’s new motto.

Kyle felt the migraine with renewed vigor as she watched him schmooze her family and act the perfect gentleman like he’d been raised in the country club.

“Kyle, I’d like you to meet my mother, Paula Gentry.” He smiled a perfectly benign smile as he made the introduction. “Mom, this is Kyle O’Neill. She’s Michael’s accountant at the studio.”

“Oh!” his mother gushed. “Michael just goes on and on about you! He thinks the world of you! He says you’re an angel when it comes to numbers. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She extended a perfectly manicured hand.

Kyle couldn’t help but smile back. The woman seemed so genuinely sweet. It was hard to imagine that she had bred such an ill-mannered, hotheaded son. She accepted her hand, which was warm and soft, obviously very well tended. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

She glanced up at Jed. Now she noticed what was different besides the 180-degree attitude adjustment. He had removed every one of his piercings and was wearing long sleeves so none of his tattoos showed. Other than his slick bald head, he fit right in and looked pretty respectable. You had to look closely—and Kyle knew to look—for the small holes where the piercings belonged.

Kyle’s mother gave a soft cough to clear her throat. Kyle rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Ms. Gentry, this is my mother, Alexandra O’Neill. Mom, this is Jed Gentry and his mother. One of my clients works with Jed.”

Never one to falter in the club setting, her mother gushed and put on a show of greeting and gossip as the two women made their way over to the bar for a refreshment, leaving Kyle and Jed alone.

Jed cleared his throat and glanced over at Charles. “Looks like loverboy is no worse for wear.”

“Yes. And thank you for the ride.”

He studied at her, his expression unreadable. “You’re welcome.”

She grimaced and rubbed her temple again.

“You have a headache, Kyle?”

Surprised, she dropped her hand and stared at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

She thought about pointing out that it was what was missing from his face that was more obvious to her today, but she decided to leave that alone. “You called me Kyle.”

“So? That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“It is, but —. . .”

“But what?”

“So, we’re done with Muffet then?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” He looked over as Charles made his way toward them.

She was still studying his face when Charles tucked his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Darling.” He nodded at Jed. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

She looked at Charles. He was smiling politely at Jed like he didn’t recognize him from the party. Jed seemed to realize this too and looked like he was brewing a scheme.

He held out a hand. “Name’s Jed.”

Charles smiled politely. Some of the green seemed to be fading from his face. “Charles Benson. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I see you’ve met my fiancée, Kyle?”

“Yes, I have. She was just telling me how much you enjoy a nice Vodka. I know the bar here stocks Grey Goose. Join me for a drink?”

Charles cringed.

Kyle paled. “Oh, I . . . why don’t you stay . . .”

“Sure,” Charles answered before Kyle could make an excuse for him.

Jed smiled and the two men walked away. She stood alone and watched as her fiancé and the man she’d very nearly kissed just the night before went to enjoy a couple of drinks together like old chums. Strangely, she noticed her headache was subsiding. She allowed her eyes to slide down to Jed’s behind in his pressed slacks. Wait. Slacks? He should’ve been out of his element here. This should be
her
comfort zone. But he seemed just as comfortable here as he did at the tattoo parlor and she felt just as out of place.

She took the opportunity of being alone to step into the closest quiet corner and breathe. Other than the pesky, lingering ache behind her eyes and the sexy bald man that’d kept her up last night, her life was pretty much where she wanted it. Wasn’t it?

She glanced down at the ring on her left hand. The gem caught the light and sparkled like a diamond should, but it only seemed to taunt her. She swallowed and glanced up. Instead of seeking comfort from Charles, her eyes automatically sought out Jed. Like a beacon, his aura drew her in from across the room. He was studying Charles as he rattled on very self-importantly, probably feeling rather superior as Junior VP at a prestigious firm. Charles settled back in his chair as he spoke and used his hands as he made his point. Jed nodded slightly and quietly indicated for the bartender to refill their glasses, never taking his attention from Charles. Kyle had to hand it to him. He was good. Charles surely thought he was enthralling some simpleton with his business prowess, but Kyle knew better. Somehow, she knew those blue eyes better than that. Jed was the one in control here and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Maybe she should step in. But another look at Charles’s self-satisfied face and she turned away.

“Drink it up, Charles. I hope it’s a great cure for your hangover,
sweetheart,
” she whispered to herself as she turned to her mother who was across the room hanging on every word coming out of Ms. Gentry’s mouth.

The women smiled and chatted and seemed entirely too cozy. Kyle felt like an outsider. An imposter. Desperate for an escape, she sank into the nearest chair and laid her head on the table. When had her life gotten so off track? She sighed and admitted it was her own fault. Something inside of her wasn’t wired for the life neatly paved in front of her and she’d been bucking it.

She turned her head and studied Charles with glum eyes.
But, why not?
It could be so easy. She sat up and thought about it. She could do it. She could. She could finish working for Michael. Then go back to work at Daddy’s firm until the wedding, maybe for a little while after. Surely, it hadn’t
all
been horrible and soul-sucking . . . But, more importantly, soon she could focus on being Charles’s wife and hopefully the mother to their children. She could run the house and do some charity events, maybe even spend some time on long neglected hobbies. They could really make a go of it. It could work. She tried to smile. It wasn’t painful . . .

Kaboom!
A huge crack of thunder rattled the windows and a peal of lightning lit up the previously blue skies. Startled squeals tittered through the room and the lights flickered off then back on. A waitress had appeared in front of Kyle at that moment and nearly toppled a tray of drinks into her lap with a nervous jump.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” the girl apologized.

“It’s okay. That was spooky,” Kyle smiled at the still skittish waitress.

“Yeah.” She smiled back then checked to make sure her drinks were still intact. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, wait, silly me. I’ve already got something for you.”

“Something for me? But I didn’t order anything.”

“Yeah.” The girl winked. “From the man at the bar.” She set down a mineral water and a glass of soda and held out her hand. “Here you go.”

Automatically Kyle reached out. “What’s this?”

“Aspirin. And a Coke. For your headache. The caffeine will help,” she said with a smile.