No Strings Attached (20 page)

“I’m attracted to you.”

He blinked, looked skeptical. “Don’t placate me.”

She crossed her heart. “It’s the truth.”

He eased back a little. “Are you planning to act on your attraction?”

He’d given her enough space to duck under his arm. She escaped his sexual heat. She’d been honest. He just hadn’t believed her. “I shared a secret with you,” she said. “A confidence to be kept, but not acted on.”

“You’re crushing my nuts.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t. I have a date.”

“You’ll be thinking of me the whole time.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

She was back to being snippy, Mac James noted as he leaned a hip against the front counter. Lady could lie with the best of them. She was no more attracted to him than he was to her. Then why was he sporting inches? He was so hard he hurt. Shifting his stance didn’t help. He wanted her.

He watched as she finished dressing the mannequins. She added the hats, then chose their flip-flops: rhinestone ones for Joy and leather for Roy.

“Nicole Archer from The Jewelry Box lent me a necklace and bracelets for Joy,” she said. She moved to the front counter, where she unlocked a drawer. She removed two layered gold chains with sunburst charms along the links. The bracelets came next. She held them up for him to see. “Assorted metals inlaid with blue onyx and crystals.”

He nodded, appreciating the fact she’d shared the colors. “The bracelets look expensive. Shouldn’t you keep them under glass?”

“I have security on staff this week,” she told him, tongue-in-cheek. “Sophie’s volunteering and she hired a young boy named Randy to help out, too. The kid can be trouble.”

“How much trouble?”

“He stole a pair of sunglasses during lunch and Sophie went after him. Dune then took off after Sophie. He wasn’t going to let her face the situation alone.”

Mac took it all in. His always calm, always collected partner had been concerned for Sophie. She’d protected Dune against Zane at the Sneaker Ball. Dune now stood beside her when dealing with a punk kid. He found this all very interesting.

“Randy’s holding his own now,” Jen went on to say. “Sophie brings out the best in him. He’ll guard the jewelry.”

“A thief to catch a thief?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Sophie,” he said thoughtfully. “I like her.”

“So does Dune.”

Mac narrowed his gaze on her. “How do you know this?”

“It’s pretty obvious. My cousin brought us lunch and spent half a day helping out. He’s
never,
” she stressed, “done more than a walk-through.”

Mac grinned. “He may become a permanent fixture.”

“Why are you smiling?” she asked.

“I know something Dune has yet to realize,” he said. “I like being one step ahead of the big guy. He’s usually two steps ahead of me.”

Jen placed the jewelry on Joy, then stood back to admire both the mannequins. “They look beach friendly,” she said.

She then glanced at her watch. “I need to get going.”

Mac moved toward the door. “Don’t let me keep you.”

“Bye, Mac.”

A part of him wasn’t ready to call it a day. But she was meeting up with someone and he had no excuse to stay. Grandfather Frank wanting wheat bagels wouldn’t work a second time. The scheme was lame.

He was about to leave when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from the pocket of her shorts, looked at the number, and moved out of earshot. Her “Hello, Kyle,” drifted back to him, faint yet discernible.

Mac assumed the caller was her date. Such a call so close to going out wasn’t good. The guy was either running late or about to cancel. Mac guessed that she was about to fly solo.

He rubbed the back of his neck. This was none of his business. Why should he care? He didn’t really. Yet Jenna crossed his mind when he least expected it. There was something about her that both ticked him off, yet tempted him.

Eavesdropping wasn’t new to him. He was barefoot and she’d never hear him coming. He headed to the storeroom, leaned against the wall, and listened.

“I wish you’d told me about your girlfriend,” he heard Jen say. A pause while Kyle spoke, then it was Jen once again. “I understand. If she wants you back, you need to work through your fight.”

She sounded understanding, Mac thought. He waited for her to pitch a fit. She didn’t. He hadn’t realized she’d ended the call until she charged from the back room. Anger slapped her flip-flops. Her radar picked him up. She was on him in a heartbeat.

“I knew you were here,” she accused. “You’re like a wiretap, listening in on my private conversations.”

He thought he’d been quiet. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I heard you breathing.”

He’d been holding his breath and only released a short, soft
whoosh
before he turned blue. Apparently Jen had sharp hearing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the best he could do.

“Sorry that you eavesdropped, or sorry I don’t have a date?” she asked.

He went with “No date.”

She shrugged, sighed. “It doesn’t really matter. It’s been a long day and I was running short on time. I only had twenty minutes to get home and pull myself together.”

“I held you up. I’m to blame.”

“I may find fault with you, Mac, but not tonight,” she said. “I could’ve shoved you out the door at any time.”

Instead she’d let him stay, let him dress a mannequin. She’d recognized his insecurity in being colorblind and promised to keep his secret. He hoped she was true to her word.

“What about Twilight Bazaar?” he asked.

“I have several family members selling artwork. I need to make an appearance. I can attend alone.”

“Or you could attend with me.”

“Bailing me out a second time,” she said more to herself than to him. “Let’s learn from our past mistakes. We didn’t connect at the Sneaker Ball, it’s doubtful we will over art.”

“I’m an art connoisseur.”

She looked skeptical. “An expert on women, I could accept, but art? Not a chance.”

“Art was an option if I didn’t make it in volleyball,” he said straight-faced. “I like to finger paint, papier-mâché, and mold peanut butter play dough. I’m a master with the glue gun and macaroni. I love to body paint and roll around on butcher paper, especially with a partner.”

“You excel in sticky mediums.”

“The stickier the better.” Black Cherry body oil came to mind. Unexpected, but timely. The oil warmed to the touch and was lickable and tasty. He had a need to get naked and naughty. He hadn’t had sex for a week. Kami had been willing and they’d fooled around. In the heat of the moment, thoughts of Jen had crossed his mind and lingered. He couldn’t shake her. He’d lost interest in Kami.

All that would change tonight.

Maybe he’d cruise the Blue Coconut for a game of pool or hit happy hour at the Parrot Walk. There were always hot chicks wanting a cocktail and a hook-up. He was in the mood for rug burns and love bites.

“Mac?” Jenna snapped her fingers near his nose. “I’m leaving.”

“Hang loose.” He followed her out.

She locked up, then left him with a wave of her hand.

He watched her walk away. There were no mincing steps or major wiggle to the woman, he noted. She moved with purpose. She smiled at everyone she passed, many being family and friends. A red light stopped her at the Center Street crosswalk. He caught her profile.

A breeze brushed her hair off her face. Her cheekbones were high and the tilt of her chin was stubborn. She was petite and fit. No way was she packing five extra pounds. She was too damn firm. She looked hot in her belly shirt and shorts. She had a light golden tan, which he found prettier than the beach babes who baked a dark brown.

She waited and waited at the long light. She glanced at her watch, then swung her arms at her sides. A pedicab approached and she flagged it down. She climbed in the three-wheeled rickshaw. The driver took off, cutting the corner sharply.

She was gone. He experienced a sense of emptiness. He neither liked nor understood the feeling.

The bar scene suddenly lost appeal.

He felt left behind.

Jenna Cates was worth pursing.

He ran in front of the next pedicab, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes. The driver said something rude, which Mac ignored. He was at fault. He could’ve caused an accident on the boardwalk.

He pointed east. “A pedicab just rounded the corner,” he said. “Can you catch it?”

The driver looked college age. His name badge read JOE. He eyed Mac as if he were crazy. “Give chase in this heat?”

“It’s only ninety-two.” Mac had played volleyball in three-digit temps. “I need speed.”

“I’m a cruiser.”

“I’ll triple your fare.”

“Add a big tip?”

Mac nodded. “Send the bill to Dune Cates.”

“Get in,” Joe said.

Mac settled on the narrow cushioned seat. The driver took off, pumping his legs like a superhero.

They rounded the corner at Center Street. Joe pedaled so fast that the back tires left skid marks. Mac squinted against the sun. He’d lost another pair of sunglasses. That made two pairs this week. He needed to be more careful.

He slapped his hands on the back of Joe’s seat. “That’s them, two blocks ahead.”

It felt like a car chase scene from a movie, Mac thought, as the driver left the wide sidewalk and took to the street. This wasn’t
Bullitt, Ronin,
or
Mad Max,
but a chase was a chase.

A car swerved and pedestrians scattered. Joe was hell on wheels. He beeped his horn at a flock of crows and shouted at a jogger. He was pedaling full-out and bridging the gap. Less than half a block separated them now.

Joe’s commotion caught the attention of Jen’s driver. The man gestured and she glanced over her shoulder. Mac was close enough now to see her face. Her gaze widened and her lips parted. She said something to her cabbie, which caused him to pick up speed.

Joe heaved a breath. He was growing winded. They quickly lost ground. The pedicab moved beyond the hustle of the boardwalk and pier and crossed into Olde Barefoot William, where the majority of the Cateses lived. The streets were quiet and the old Florida-style cottages were quaint. The homes were shingled and shuttered with wide porches. They’d withstood hurricanes and time. The homes were handed down through generations. Here lay the inner circle.

Enormous evergreens lined the narrow two-lane road. Ancient moss hung from the branches. The sun cast shadows and the scent of hibiscus and plumeria was heavy on the air. Sprinklers whirred as homeowners watered their lawns.

Mac craned his neck. His pedicab had stalled out. Joe was sweating and swearing under his breath. Mac leaned back on the seat and took a moment to plan his next move. He’d been so intent on reaching Jen that he’d yet to come up with an excuse for chasing her down. He had nothing.

He usually thought fast on his feet.

But Jen was smart. She would see through him.

He could only fake it for so long.

Jen’s pedicab soon turned left onto Sand Dollar Way. Joe got a second wind. He was pedaling for a big tip. He pulled behind the first rickshaw just as Jen exited.

“Thanks, Dude.” Mac slapped Joe on the back and hopped out.

Joe pedaled off and the second pedicab followed.

Jenna climbed onto the curb and he remained in the street. She stood very still and stared at him. Only craziness drove a man into a pedicab chase. He shifted several times, uncertain and feeling foolish. What to say?

She spoke first. “What the hell?”

“I stopped by for a visit.” Not his best opening line.

“We saw each other ten minutes ago.”

He shrugged. “It seemed longer than that.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t.”

“I thought we were bonding back at your shop.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get that same feeling.”

He kept at it. “I’m here, you’re here.”

She sighed heavily. “I don’t understand you.”

He didn’t understand himself most days. This was not going well. “Are you going to invite me in?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and appeared to count to ten. “Better to let you in the front door than have you break a back window.”

“I’d never do that.”

She blinked him a look. She didn’t believe him for a second. She turned and started up the stone sidewalk. The lawn swept wide and the grass was tall. Dandelions grew wild. The cottage sat back off the road. It was built on higher ground, which protected it from a storm surge.

A white picket fence bordered her property. Mac had never known anyone with a picket fence. He ran from women who wanted a house with a fenced-in yard, a two-car garage, and three children.

Damn, Jen already had the fence.

His stomach squeezed, but he didn’t get nauseous, a good sign for him. He could hold it together if he tried.

He followed her. The stones were sun-warmed and smooth beneath his bare feet. He was so busy checking out her place, he stubbed his toe twice.

He’d nearly reached the cottage when the grass wavered, parted, and her cats appeared. He saw one, two—a total of four. They came after him, all big, sneaky, and slinking.

He was more of a dog than cat person. These four didn’t seem crazy about him, either. They circled him. He swore one hissed. Were they feral?

“They’re Savannahs,” Jen said from the porch. “A pairing of the African Serval and a domestic cat.”

Their wild African genes were visible to Mac; their domestic side, not so apparent.

“The cats have spots on their coats,” Jen told him. “They will fluff out the base of their tails in a greeting gesture.”

No fluff, Mac noted. He wasn’t welcome.

A darkly furred male brushed his calf in a footrace to the steps. The cat won. He stopped on the top stair, claimed it. Mac watched the cat watch him. The Savannah was long and lean with boomerang-shaped eyes and a hooded brow. Cheetah-tear markings ran from the corner of his eyes down the side of his nose to his whiskers.

A second cat passed him. This one could leap. The Savannah made it from the sidewalk to the porch in a single bound. The cat should wear a cape. In a matter of seconds, all four surrounded Jen. Mac faced a gauntlet.