Inside Out (10 page)

“Do you know my surname?” she asked the girl.

“Hunter, what the heck is wrong with you? You take up dope now too?”

“Do you know it or not?”

The Asian girl rolled her beautiful eyes. “Of course I do. Orlando. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Olivia cleared her throat. “Super. So, uh, how’s work?”

“You mean the odd day you delight us with your presence at the Chikamatsu theater? Let’s put it this way. I don’t mind covering for you, but if I get caught it’s my own ass. And I can’t afford to lose my job, Hunter.”

“Right.”

The Asian girl sighed. “At least call in sick, Hunter.”

Olivia smiled. Maybe Hunter could still be redeemed. “Nah. I’m done with whatever I used to do.”

The girl watched her for a moment, and then shrugged. “Your life.”

“Thanks.”

“But Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“Remember you promised to stay away from trouble.”

Olivia may have been a Girl Guide but Hunter certainly never was, not judging by the life she seemed to lead. Beside, this The Hanged Highwayman seemed the right place to start.

“Promise,” she lied with a grin, crossing her fingers behind her back. The redeeming would have to wait.

* * *

Trying to be as cool as Hunter Orlando, Olivia sauntered into a bar as dark as a cave and stepped on…peanut shells. She should have known. She had never been in a place like this before, and now she knew why. It stank of fried oil, wet dog, and strong spirits.

Why would a woman as beautiful and clever as Hunter live like this? Why didn’t she clean her act up and get a decent job somewhere? Olivia was the only one in there apart from the bloke who came out to get her order. Normally she didn’t drink anything stronger than a glass of wine during dinner, so she ordered a glass of ginger ale, and when the man behind the counter stared at her, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Just gimme the usual.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten before the Cadbury bars. Olivia peered into the glass mug he slid over to her. It looked clean. Enough. Hoping the alcohol wouldn’t get her tipsy on an empty stomach, she threw her head back and took one long swig. Ugh. Cider. A strong one. Olivia hated cider. With great effort, she threw her head back and downed some more, feeling weird already. If she didn’t find a way back to her old self, she’d have to get used to shit holes like this.

She sat up straight on her stool and braced her hands against the bar, stretching her back. This athletic body was no longer used to sitting for so long.

Olivia was going to make an honest woman out of Hunter Orlando. She’d move her away from this place, find a decent job, and then win Shane over. If she’d done it once before with her own looks, she sure as hell could do it with a body and face like Hunter’s.

She buried her nose in her poison, grimacing as the fumes reached her nostrils. Crap, this was strong stuff. She’d have to get used to it if she didn’t want to blow her cover. She would stick around just long enough to figure out what Hunter was up to. And then get the hell out of there.

As she toyed with her glass, a strange, disquieting sensation engulfed her, and she turned toward the door to see Shane saunter into the pub, tall and erect, so handsome yet so fierce-looking. His eyes glittered as they met hers. Olivia swallowed. He moved quickly and stealthily, and Olivia could almost see him on a battlefield, eschewing mines and ambushing his enemies. He was pure warrior, and oh, so male.

Is he here for his gun, or for me?
Olivia wondered as she eyed her husband of ten years, her heart racing
.

Half of her hoped Shane was there to take her with him, while the other half resented that he could look so smitten by another woman. And what a woman. Hunter Orlando, she now knew, was just about as much sex that a man could take without keeling over with a stroke. They couldn’t help being drawn to her. She overpowered them, mollified them. Look at the policeman. It had been exhilarating. Up until now, she had been admired for her other qualities, but had never caused any heads to turn. She loved it.

All the same Olivia wanted to lash out at Shane as he now happily plunked himself onto the stool next to hers at the bar. Apparently his wife was just a memory to him, and not a reality. Yet here she was, sitting right next to him in flesh and bones, albeit not her own. How she wished to wrinkle her nose and bam—shift back into herself. Right before him. Ha. She could almost imagine his meager excuses for doing the dirty with another woman.

Olivia was silent as Shane’s eyes traced the contours of her body from head to foot then back again, settling on her face with a wry grin. God, could you feel a man’s stare like a real caress?

“Interesting dress,” he murmured in his deep, husky voice, his adorable mouth twitching into a smile.

Olivia stiffened and clamped her thighs together as moistness immediately pooled between her legs. All he’d done was look at her and say two words, and she’d practically melted on the bar. Unbelievable.

“H-how did you find me?”

“You’re waiting for that Randy guy, aren’t you? You’re convinced he can protect you better than me?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answered, unable to look at him.

She wondered how much he still missed her, his wife, if he already patrolled bars for a replacement. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to blame him. What he and Hunter had was firecrackers. How she had survived so far without these sensations, she didn’t know. What would he do if she wrapped her arms around his neck and told him her real name?

He leaned close, and she shivered as his body heat washed over her like fire.

“You smell like chocolate—sweet and smooth.”

Olivia drained her glass and shrugged as her cheeks began to burn.

“Let’s you and me split the scene,” he whispered, tracing her jaw line with his index finger, his eyes boring into hers, twinkling with mischief, and Olivia’s muscles twitched involuntarily.

Her body wanted to lie under him and be subjected to anything he had in mind, but her brain still fumed for his betrayal with Alfie.

She buried her nose in her drink and murmured, “Get lost, Judas.”

His finger traveled up to her cheek, and she swallowed, cursing her pounding heart and trembling hands.

“You’re much better than this, Hunter.”

Olivia managed to snort. “Yeah, right.”

Shane cupped her chin and their eyes met. “This is not a place for a girl like you.”

No, it isn’t,
she wanted to say.
My place is at home with you.

“Did you come to warn me, betray me, or fuck me again?” Olivia spat, so not caring about her language anymore. Anything to put some distance between them, to harden her heart.

Shane’s eyes glittered, and in one swift movement, he picked her up off her stool and pinned her against the bar. Their chests, plastered together, heaved with excitement and anger. Anger toward fate that had taken her away from her home, her husband. A husband that she no longer recognized. Sexy and handsome like always, only now it seemed he had nothing but sex on his mind all the time.

“Do you mind? You’re squeezing a bit too tight for my taste.”

Shane gave her a lopsided grin, his fingers heading dangerously for her neckline. “You didn’t seem to mind before, with all your howling.”

Olivia glowered at him.

“After you did a runner from my boat, I got a visit from a friend of yours.”

Olivia’s head shot up. “Who?”

Shane moved closer, licking her earlobe. “I was hoping you’d tell me. He wants you dead.”

Olivia shivered, and Shane ran his hand lazily across her breasts, which wasn’t helping. He caught her nipple between his index and thumb, and she gulped.

He grinned again, his voice husky. “God knows what else will happen to you if I don’t stick around.”

Olivia watched him with half-closed eyes, her womb already contracting with want. Forget that she loved him like crazy. Now, she practically moved her hips in sync with the sound of his voice, as if his mouth had some invisible connection with her vagina.

“Come back to the
Olivia
with me. You’ll be safe. I won’t let anybody take you away,” he whispered, and she watched as he drew nearer, his green eyes scanning her face for a reaction, and finally—
finally
, sealing her mouth with his.

Olivia instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, her mouth opened to him. To hell with discretion. To hell with Randy what’s-his-name or whoever came through that door. She needed him.
Her husband.

He kissed her hungrily, in a slow, sexy teasing of her mouth. She moaned, wanting more of him. All of him. He pulled back and peered into her eyes, his own twinkling with satisfaction or lust, she couldn’t tell. She was still learning those expressions.

And then his hand stole to the hem of her dress, his fingers moving up her thigh, taking the dress with it. Her breath caught as the back of his knuckles caressed her ridge the way he had done the first time.

“I like a girl without underwear, nice and ready for me. Are you nice and ready for me again, Hunter?”

She licked her lips and watched his eyes crease as his fingers found their way inside her. She lifted her butt off the stool and spread her thighs wider, not caring if anybody came in now. Very unlike Olivia.

She was conscious of his fingers now on her clitoris, circling, stroking, flicking, and her body rocking against his hand, begging for more. Shane’s other hand stole under her neckline to her nipples that were rock hard and screaming for his tongue. She didn’t care if it only lasted a moment. She needed him badly. Hard and now. She threw back her head and clutched at the bar, bracing herself for an orgasm as Shane leaned over her, so close she could smell his skin. He’d just showered, and his clothes smelled of just washed, too.

He turned his head to her and their eyes held, although Olivia’s were barely open.

“Yes, I could easily fuck you right here on this bar, Hunter,” he murmured against her mouth and pulled away. “But I’m not going to.”

She sat up, stunned by his words, searching his face, flushed with desire. “And why’s that…?” she challenged, feeling her mouth twitching with suppressed indignation, the juices that had pooled in between her thighs so abundant she was sure she’d wet the barstool.

“Because this is not the place to fuck a lady.”

“Oh, as opposed to?”

A slight wrinkle formed at the corners of his mocking eyes. Laugh lines. How long had it been since he’d laughed, she wondered.

“As opposed to your place,” he said with a grin.

Once again access to her own beloved home eluded her. “What’s wrong with your place, is it holy ground?” She chuckled, but bit her lip as he pulled away, his eyes unreadable, and it dawned on her. He hadn’t taken anyone back there since she’d died.
Crap.

“Or we could go to my shop,” she added, trying to amend with a smile. Could he maybe see her through the kinky disguise of another woman’s body? Feel her thoughts as he always had? Impossible. Absolutely unthinkable.

Yet Olivia couldn’t help but wonder what Shane would do if she told him the truth. If she sat him down now and explained all that had happened to her. If he could accept that she had managed to escape death, then he might entertain the idea that her soul might have found another body to inhabit, only to be with him again. It wasn’t looking good. She knew his strings better than those of her own cello.

“Now listen,” he whispered. “Let’s cut the crap here. I know who you are. And the police know who you are. So just a few caveats. First, despite what you may think, I
am
your only friend here. Two, you don’t run from me again. Got that so far?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, got it.”

“From what I’ve heard about you it’s better if you give me my gun back.
I’ll
worry about your pretty little ass from now on.”

She hesitated, then finally nodded, and reached into her dress where she’d secured it with a piece of twine she’d found in her travels. Shane made an impressed face.

“Smart girl. Now, what does it take to keep you in my sight for more than ten minutes, hmm?”

She shivered. He used to look at her, his
wife
, like that.

Shane’s fingertips traced her lips, moving down to her jawline as he whispered, “I need to see you, Hunter. Again and again.”

Olivia stared up at his handsome, beloved face and the tiny wrinkles at the corners of his beautiful green eyes creased momentarily. Her thighs still trembled. If Randy, or anybody for that matter, came in and saw them, Shane’s large hand on her thigh, it would be more than obvious what was passing between them, and she didn’t want to blow her cover before she even met the guy.

“Not now,” she whispered. “Please go.”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move.

“I need you, too. And I know I need your help. I’ll find you.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she assured him and lowered her head to the counter so he wouldn’t see the tears. Hunter Orlando never cried.

Shane leaned in. “I’ll be at Chelsea Harbor, where we first met,” he whispered and without another word, his hand caressed her hip before he turned on his heel, leaving her on the stool, damp, cold, and empty.

* * *

Olivia didn’t know how long she’d been perched there, but the bartender had returned and wiped the counter, eyeing her surreptitiously. She sighed. “Gimme another one.”

“Hey, Hunter-baby,” a man hollered in a raspy voice. It took her a moment to remember the unfamiliar name was hers, and she turned toward the bloke of about thirty, with a big bald head and the body of a bouncer. He wore black jeans, a black tank top, and a big-buckled belt. Every inch of exposed flesh was covered in colorful tattoos. It had to be Randy, Hunter’s boyfriend. Christ, could she have done any worse?

He took the stool where only moments ago Shane had almost brought her to orgasm. Randy glanced around before leaning toward her and kissing her on the mouth. A wet fish would’ve been sexier.