Skintight (12 page)

“I didn't. But she ran to the store to get something for her dinner.”

“And you didn't bother going with her? What are you, one of those bums who lets the women do everything?”

Having a guy old enough to be his father find fault with him right out of the gate rubbed an exposed nerve, but he said evenly, “She took off the first time before I could even offer.”

“The first…?” Mack nodded. “Ah. Sure. Carly's got her car. I thought she planned to be back with it by now, though.”

“Apparently her dog staged a getaway from the vet, and she's out looking for him.” His brows furrowed above his nose before he could prevent them, but he smoothed them out pronto. “I suppose you think I oughtta be out helping
her
look, too.”

The other man laughed. “Hit a sore spot with that, did I?” The idea clearly pleased him.

Jax shrugged. “It's not like I'm not used to old men finding fault with me—my father never hesitated to say I wasn't worth much, either.” Shock sizzled down his spine. He couldn't believe he'd just said that. He'd always been the Sphinx where his private life was concerned. Now suddenly he was Chatty Cathy? What the hell was this town doing to him?

Before he could even consider trying to backpedal, however, Mack sobered. “Now, that I'm sorry about, because I can't wrap my head around laying that kind
of garbage on a kid. I raised two girls, and they were the apples of my eye. Still are. Unfortunately they live in North Dakota and New Hampshire these days, but I've got the girls here to practice my protective impulses on.”

Without further ado, Mack headed for the kitchen, where he pulled a couple of beers out of the refrigerator. He offered one to Jax, but shrugged without comment when he shook his head in refusal. The older man simply returned it to the fridge, then twisted the cap off his own bottle.

“Carly's strays are her problem,” he said. “The truth is, they're usually not much of one, but Rufus is proving difficult. My money's on her, though. She'll get him whipped into shape one of these days.” He strode into the living room, flopped down on one of the upholstered chairs and looked at Jax when he sat in the chair opposite him. “So why didn't you go with Treena the second time?”

“Because she wanted me to stay here. Mostly, I think, because she wanted to drive my rental.”

“Why? What's so great about it?”

“It's a Viper SRT-10.”

Mack sat upright. “No shit? And you let her drive it?”

The incredulousness in the older man's voice sent unease crawling through his gut. “Yes. Why? Is she a lousy driver or something?”

“No, she's a good driver. But a
Viper.
I've only seen one once, but it was a beauty.” He took a pull on his beer and grinned. “You might as well turn down the heat under the sauce, boy. She may or may not have your car back some time this week.”

Jax felt a smile tug the corner of his mouth. “That's what she said.”

“And you probably thought she was kidding.” Mack shook his head. Then he leaned back in his chair once again, cradling the beer bottle against his flat stomach, and regarded Jax with level eyes. “Carly tells me you're some kind of gambler?”

“I'm a professional poker player,” he agreed and braced himself for the older guy's condemnation.

But Mack merely asked, “And you can actually make a living at that?”

“Yes. A pretty good one.”

“Huh. It's a different world than when I was your age.”

Jax shrugged.

Surprisingly, Mack laughed. “I know. It's the standard old fart speech. When I was a kid—” his voice went stentorian “—ice cream cones were—”

“A nickel a scoop,” Jax supplied, amused in spite of himself.

“Heard that one already, huh? Well, I'll make you a deal, son. I'll refrain from dragging out the rest of my When-I-was-youngs—and, trust me, I've got a million of 'em, so this is no small deal. I'll even back off on my protective shtick where Treena's concerned…as long as you agree to treat her right.” Then the warmth bled out of his dark eyes. “You hurt her, though, boy, and I'll hunt you down like a dog.”

His gut went hollow, because that was exactly what was going to happen. He didn't give a damn about Mack's threats. But although he hadn't worried about hurting Treena when he'd first set out on this quest, the idea of it now was beginning to bother him.

A lot.

But he gave the older man a steady look. “What if
she's
the one who ends up hurting me?”

“Then I'll assume you were begging for it.”

His mouth twisted beneath the sudden stab of bitterness. “Of course. Why worry about a little thing like fairness?”

“I never claimed I wasn't partisan. I'm on her side, all the way.”

“Well, as long as we understand each other.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

A key turned in the dead bolt, breaking their damned-if-
I'll
-be-the-first-to-look-away locked gazes.

“Honey, I'm ho-ome.” Treena's voice preceded her into the room. “I want you to know I was a good, good girl. I really wanted to take that car down to L.A. for a test spin, but I wrestled mightily with my conscience and resisted.” The sound of keys disengaging from the dead bolt and the door closing accompanied her words, then she appeared in the archway, her arm hooked around the paper bag riding one hip. Golden brown eyes widened for an instant as they took in Mack's presence, then a warm smile lit her face. “Well, hi there. I didn't expect to see you here.”

“I smelled spaghetti cooking and came to investigate. Young Gallagher here insisted I stay for dinner.”

Treena's surprised gaze whipped over to lock with his. “You did?”

He snorted. “In his dreams. But ancient as Old Mack is, he's far from feeble—and I couldn't budge him.”

“Ancient, my ass,” Mack grumbled. But he gave Treena an affectionate, wheedling smile. “A hot dinner
sure sounds better than the cold, stale sandwich I was planning to have.”

“Please,” Jax muttered. “You're breaking my heart.”

But Treena laughed. “Mack, won't you stay for dinner?”

“Why, thank you, sweetheart. I'd love to.”

“You're kidding, right?” He couldn't hide his dismay as he saw his chances for a little one-on-one with her go up in smoke before his eyes. “You can't possibly have fallen for a con that weak.” But when they both turned to look at him, she with a chastising gaze, Mack with a smug one, he knew he might as well give in gracefully. So he did.

Sort of. “Fine. He stays. But he's doing the dishes.”

The doorbell rang, but before anyone could move to answer it the door opened with a bang. There was a scramble of nails on the tiled entryway floor, then Carly and a black-and-brown dog exploded into the living room.

“God, what a day!” She crossed to the couch, collapsed in a sprawl of long legs and shoved the dog away when he tried to climb up onto her lap. “Get down, you fleabag! You're on real shaky ground here—I'm talking one nudge away from euthanasia.” But when Rufus's tail thumped enthusiastically against the hardwood floor, she gave his ears an absentminded scratch. “Hi, Mack. Hi, Jax.” She looked up at her friend. “Treena, I'm so sorry about keeping your car this long.”

“Not a problem. I got to drive Jax's Viper.”

“What's a viper? No, wait, is that the red sports car I saw down in the parking lot?” At Treena's nod, she gave him an approving look. “Whoa. You have serious great taste in rides.”

“Thanks. I'd love to be able to tell you that it's mine, but I just rented it for the day.”

“Still classy either way.” She inhaled. “Oh, my God, is that spaghetti I smell?”

“Yeah.” Treena blinded Jax with her smile before saying to her friend, “Wanna join us?”

“You know it, toots.” She slowly straightened. “But I'll decline. I don't want to horn in on your date.”

“Wish your buddy here felt the same way,” Jax said.

“You mean Mack's staying?” At the older man's decisive nod, she smiled brilliantly. “In that case, why not? After the day I had, a meal someone else cooked sounds so divine, I can't even begin to tell you.” She surged to her feet. “I'll just go put Rufus in the apartment and feed the rest of the babies.” Grabbing the dog by the collar, she detoured by the breakfast bar, where she picked up the bottle of wine. “I suppose it wouldn't be cool to drink this straight from the bottle. But if you don't mind, I'll just pour myself a glass for the road. A
big
glass,” she muttered. “I earned it.”

The late afternoon passed into early evening in a blur of noisy conversation, tasty food, and flowing wine. A tidy little woman named Ellen, who turned out to live next door, joined them, as well, and Jax was tickled to note she took the burden of Mack's scrutiny off of him. From the moment she walked into the living room, bearing a plate of cookies, Mack turned his attention to her.

The older man's gaze tracked her every move as she greeted Treena and handed over the heaping plate. When she came into the living room where they were seated a moment later, he gave her a comprehensive once-over, and the introduction to Jax was barely out of
the way before he said, “Festive as ever, I see. You ever considered dressing in something besides basic crow? You make Heckle and Jeckyl look flamboyant by comparison.”

“Who?” Jax asked.

Ellen's pretty smile dimmed and her cheeks went pink, but her chin shot up. “Mr. Brody is referring to cartoon characters from the '60s, Jax. But as usual his lips move without actually saying anything worth hearing.” She turned back to Mack. “Heckle and Jeckyl were magpies, you old fool, not crows.”

It went downhill from there, and Jax sat back, sipped his club soda and watched. He continued to observe them with fascination during dinner.

While he was hardly the biggest ladies' man in the universe himself, he had Mack beat all to hell. For a second he even considered pulling the old guy aside to give him a pointer or two on improving his mating technique. God knew his current one sucked.

But it wasn't his problem, and it was time for him to leave, anyway. He found himself curiously reluctant to go, but he pushed his chair back and rose. “I'm sorry,” he said when conversation at the table abruptly died and everyone stared up at him. “This has been great, but I have to get ready for my game.”

“Ah, so that's why you haven't been drinking, huh?” Mack said at the same time Carly wished him good luck.

“It was nice to meet you, dear,” Ellen said. “Be sure to grab a few cookies for the road.”

Treena rose to her feet, as well, as he took the older woman at her word and filched a couple cookies off the plate. “I'll walk you out.”

She stole several glances at him as they headed toward the door. “I'm not sure whether to apologize or congratulate you on your forbearance,” she admitted.

She felt guilty for the way she'd let herself be surrounded with her friends to avoid the possibility of intimacy with Jax. She'd given in to a cowardly impulse because there was just something about this guy that made her ache to present her best, and her abilities in the bedroom didn't do that. She knew men looked at her, heard what she did for a living, and made huge assumptions about her sexuality. But no matter how great it started out, it always seemed to end up a big, fat disappointment for all concerned—and it was usually her fault because she just couldn't seem to let go and really cut loose. She didn't want to see the same disappointment on Jax's face that she'd seen on others.

She wondered what he thought of the afternoon's impromptu gathering, but couldn't tell from his noncommittal expression. So she tried to find out in a more roundabout manner. “This isn't exactly what you signed on for.”

“Don't worry about it,” he said easily, stopping at the front door to look down at her. “I had a good time. Well, the jury is still out on Mack, since one look at me and he turned into a junkyard dog. But Carly and Ellen are great, and the meal—that was sheer heaven, Treena. My only complaint is that—with all the others here—I had no chance to do this.”

His long-fingered hand wrapped around the back of her neck. With a tug, he tumbled her against his chest and lowered his head, stamping his mouth firmly over hers.

Like their kiss in the parking garage, it only took one
touch of his lips, one confident sweep of his tongue across her own, for her brain to go into meltdown. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back, and between one pounding heartbeat and the next her entire world was reduced to hot, seething sensations and swirling colors. She pressed closer.

Then his hands, strong and firm, gripped her forearms and deftly disengaged her hands from where she'd plunged them into his soft, thick hair. He moved her back a step.

She might have been embarrassed, might have felt the slap of rejection, except that she could see his chest rising and falling beneath the snug blue T-shirt as his breath heaved in his lungs.

“Holy shit,” he said hoarsely. “Ho-ly—” He cut himself off and took a step back, as well. One hand reached for the doorknob, while the other raked his sun-streaked hair back from his brow. “Jesus, Treena, you're more potent than a straight shot of bourbon. It's going to take me every minute between now and the start of the game to get my head on straight.” He opened the door and stepped through, but paused on the other side to look at her. Suddenly, he leaned back in and pressed a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “I'll call you,” he said.

Then he turned and strode away.

Pressing her fingers to her lips to retain the feel of his kiss, she leaned out into the hallway and watched him until he disappeared down the stairway. Then she closed the door and leaned back against it, smiling dreamily at the High Scaler on the mantel, which she could just see through the archway. Perhaps there was a guy on Planet Earth with whom she could cut loose.