Sweet Surrender (21 page)

Today! Jessie rolled her eyes. This kind of thing had been going on for months. She was like Dr. Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. Regrettably, Jessie found herself most often in the unpleasant company of the latter.

Marc’s dad wasn’t through yet. “You will also see that the girls give their apologies as well.”

“Yes, David. I’m sorry this has been so upsetting.”

Although it sounded vaguely like one, it still wasn’t an apology.

“I need air.” David’s fading footsteps were followed by a slamming door.

Marc spoke next, his tone cold and sharp, like an icicle. “There will be no pre-nup, that subject is closed.” Jessie could imagine him giving his mother, sisters, and cousins that intense glare that meant he was fed up with their bullshit. She’d had that look directed at her several times in the past, and in her case the heating of her backside usually followed. She was unsurprised by the silence that followed, the only sound the clatter of plates and silverware.

A sharp spike of pain had Jessie turning once again toward the front hall closet. She needed Excedrin Migraine, stat. She had some in her purse, which would tide her over and take the edge off until she could get to her prescription.

She hadn’t taken more than a step when a familiar voice halted her mid-stride. “Dear brother, always a sucker for big tits and an easy piece of ass, especially if it’s poured into a tight scrub suit.”

She recognized middle sister Renata and deflated further. Nata was the only one who had been the least bit welcoming, but evidently that had been an act.

“What is this, the fourth or fifth naughty nurse?” Giada’s sneer was unmistakable.

“I think it’s actually number six,” Annalisa the brat added. “All of them trashy big-boobed blondes or redheads. He certainly has a type.”

“At least this one has enough smarts to earn a diploma,” Giada imparted derisively. “Remember Amanda? She was a nurse’s aide with only a GED.”

That got her back up even more.
I have a Master’s degree, you snob.
Why didn’t Marc say something, defend himself, or her? Her shoulders slumped as she acknowledged there was no defense for the truth. She had indeed been one in a long line of hospital romances.

“I don’t see the attraction, myself. She’s so overblown and trampy.”

“C’mon, G., can you honestly say you don’t see her allure? She reminds me of a shorter version of Jessica Rabbit. I wish I had half of what she has up top.” It was Nata again, with that same old comparison. Spurred by jealousy, her mother and friends had always reassured her. She and the cartoon bombshell shared a name, red hair, and an hourglass figure, but the over-the-top sexuality and the amoral character traits were nothing like her.

“Well,” Giada huffed, “we know what she sees in him, don’t we?”

Other voices—the cousins perhaps—and more giggles sounded as someone guessed, “Dollar signs?”

“I saw Christina Barlow the other day at the hospital: tall, thin, beautiful, as always. Did you know she published her research in the
New England Journal of Medicine
last month? She is such a success.” His mother sounded wistful, as if reaching for an elusive dream but having it slip through her fingers.

Jessie gagged. If she had to hear Marc’s mother extoll the virtues of his perfect ex-girlfriend one more time, she’d spew.
No more!
She’d stuck around far too long while they chipped away at her self-image. As she headed for the closet, she rethought her prior opinion. They weren’t a pack of she-dog bitches; at least dogs could be domesticated and trained. They were more like a nest of poisonous vipers, the sting of their fangs hurtful and toxic with each strike. Well, it’d be a cold day in hell before she’d be back for more of their abuse.

No longer attempting furtiveness, she grabbed Marc’s keys from his coat pocket and was out the door with a resounding slam. Escaping to the truck at a dead sprint, she climbed into the cab, which was not an easy feat in a tight skirt. When the engine rumbled to life, she smiled. She’d never driven his huge Ford F-250 extended cab before. Marc at his most arrogant had said half-jokingly that she should stick to her cute little two-seater and leave trucks to menfolk, especially if the woman was too short to climb in without a boost up or a stepladder. Her lips quirked in a self-satisfied smile as she adjusted the rear-view mirror; he hadn’t come right out and actually forbidden her to drive it.

As she attempted to maneuver the big vehicle around the other cars in the driveway, which wasn’t easy, she had to admit it was a stretch to reach the floor pedals and see over the high dash at the same time. The six-speed transmission was something she hadn’t considered. She winced at the teeth-jarring noise it made as she searched for and after numerous tries found reverse.

This was so not a good idea,
the little voice inside her warned. Marc was going to be pissed.

However, when the truck at last faced the right direction—after a less than impressive gear-grinding seven-point turn—she had a resurgence of anger and confidence. That little voice in her head, which reared its head at times such as these, nagged at her. If she had this much trouble in the driveway, what would she do in traffic?

Unfortunately, at the same time, her judgment—never at its best when she was hurt and ticked off—slipped another notch, downgrading from questionable to non-existent. As she gunned the engine and lurched forward in the driveway, she heard a shout. Ignoring it, she bit her lip with determination and made it to the street, in spite of the frequent and annoying dashed clutch popping. At the corner she made a wide turn, maybe a little too fast and definitely too wide. She did it though, while still in one piece. She questioned how long that would be the case as sleet or some kind of wintry mix began to ping off the hood.

“Oh, well,” she said aloud as she buckled her seatbelt, her warm breath visible in the cold air, “in for a penny, in for a pound.” She’d always heard that and wondered. This time she knew exactly what it meant and took it to heart. She was going to drive the heck out of his big, badass truck while she had the chance.

Chapter Fifteen

Letting herself in the front door, Jessie tossed Marc’s keys toward the bowl on the entryway table and missed. They slid across the surface and dropped over the edge, wedging between the wall and the back panel halfway down. A sense of unease swept through her at first. He’d likely pitch a fit when she told him they’d accidently fallen behind the heavy piece of furniture. That would be nothing compared to the frustration he’d feel when he couldn’t find them at his mother’s and, of course, the anger when he saw his truck was missing and she’d left him stranded. She smiled smugly. It was exactly what any traitorous bastard deserved.

After she’d shrugged out of her coat and yanked off her boots, she noticed that her headache had eased off tremendously. “Probably the toxic energy in that house,” she muttered as she started up the stairs.

Her foot was on the first tread when the loud banging on the front door began. She stopped without turning back, knowing exactly who it was. Dammit! How had he gotten here so quickly? Well, she wasn’t going to make it easy on good ol’ Dr. Don Juan, the womanizer.

“Who’s there?” she called, all sweetness and light.

“You know who it is, Jess. Open the door.” As orders go, it was stern and commanding; however, at this point, she was beyond caring. She was tired of being his family’s punching bag.

Much louder knocking, more like pounding came next, more insistent this time. “You took my house keys. Open up.”

“No.”

There was a long pause, then, “Did you just tell me no?” He sounded shocked.

“Nothing wrong with your hearing; maybe it’s a comprehension problem. I’ll talk slower. No,” she said in an exaggerated drawl. “Do you need me to spell it out for you? Maybe use it in a sentence?”

“Jessica, I’m going to count to three and if you don’t open the door, I’m breaking it in.”

“Ha! You don’t have the balls. Oh, wait, you do, but I think you left them in your mother’s Gucci purse.”

Silence reined for a moment. “I’m not playing here, Jessica Lynn. Open this door right now!”

His voice rose steadily, the last word coming out like the roar of an angry grizzly, which gave her momentary pause. Seriously ticked off, however, and having one too many surprises tonight, including several about her man, she couldn’t resist poking the already agitated bear.

“One…”

“Go ahead and bust it in, Don. You’ll only have to fix it.”

“Who the hell is Don?”

“Figure it out, Dr. Juan. Maybe you could call the other five nurses you dated before me to help you. I’m sure with that brain trust, you’ll have it solved in a jiff. I’m curious though, were they all big-boobed blond bimbos or were there a few trampy redheads like me, for variety?”

“Dammit, Jessie, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I do know I’m not going to argue with you through our front door when it’s below freezing, sleeting, and I’m soaked through. Open up. Now!”

“Forget you.” She wanted to say something else, but even in her current emotional state wasn’t stupid enough to launch the f-bomb at Marc. “I’m not over my mad and probably won’t be for a good long while. You’re always sticking up for your family, especially your mother. Go sleep at her house tonight.”

“Two…”

“Tell you what, I’ll call and tell her to make up the spare room for you.” That was a lie. She wouldn’t and he likely knew it. “While I’m at it, I’ll put in a request for mommy to tuck you in?”

“Three…” Wood splintered and a size fourteen boot came through the door with such force that the knob imbedded in the drywall.

Jessie stared in amazement as the hulking form of her fiancé appeared in the broken doorway. She literally shook herself to break the trance and like a fool poked again. Crossing her arms, she looked down her nose at the man she’d foolishly fallen in love with.

“Now you’ve done it. I guess you’ll need to stop by Home Depot for spackling. Better yet, borrow mommy’s makeup. That shit’s got to be industrial strength.”

She should have quit mouthing off and run, but she couldn’t resist that last zinger. Although the target wasn’t there, it felt good to get a little revenge. That was her first mistake, because her little celebratory party for one gave Marc enough time to stalk toward her.

He was upon her before she knew it. At the last second, she squealed and bolted up the stairs. Her hastily made plan was to barricade herself inside their bedroom until he calmed down. Plan B was to call 911 for the fire department because if Plan A didn’t work and he caught her, they’d be needed to put out the flames on her ass when he was done with her; of that she was certain.

“You’ve been acting like a five-year-old. When I catch you, I’m blistering your ass like one.”

Scampering up the stairs, she was two shy of the top when strong fingers circled her ankle, halting her ascent. She screeched when in the next moment, she was across his lap. Hoisting her skirt up, he laid into her without hesitation right there on the steps. He landed a good dozen stunning smacks before her brain reconnected with her mouth.

“Marc! I’m sorry.”

He paused for a brief second. “You’re apologizing so soon?” His surprise was evident.

“Yeah, because I feel really sad for you…” The insincerity rang through her words, loud and clear. “It must be tough knowing you’ll never be the man your mother is.”

The spanking resumed, but not until her ass cheeks were bared, her panties having been whisked down to her ankles in the blink of an eye. The stretchy boy shorts she favored effectively pinned her feet together as he lit into her again.

“And it’s not your fault that Giada’s got a bigger dick than you.” Although her ass was ablaze, Jessie snickered. She was on a roll. “I’m sure she gets that from your mother too.”

Short of outright laughter, she snorted. Was she nuts? He was whaling away on her backside while she was cracking jokes. It was crazy, yet she couldn’t resist; that one was a twofer, insulting both her nemeses in one fell swoop. She felt a small glimmer of satisfaction despite the burning heat he was inflicting on her anything but contrite ass.

He stilled, as did she, and silence filled the stairwell other than the sound of her accelerated breathing. Was he done already? He’d gone relatively easy for her admittedly outrageous behavior. She was at once wary, her suspicion of what lay ahead mounting quickly.

He shifted behind her. An ominous zipping noise sounded as his leather belt cleared its loops.
Oh, crap!
She squirmed as panic set in.

“Marc, no.”

“Oh, yes,
cara mia,
you have greatly tried my patience this time.” His arm around her waist tightened in an unbreakable hold.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re always sorry when I have you draped over my knees for a spanking. However, since you find it so amusing tonight, I must not be making the impact I intended, quite literally.”

A thwack echoed through the stairwell as his belt connected with both globes of her bare bottom at once.

“I cannot believe you left without a word and left me stranded over there. I know you’re upset, but that is no reason to take it out on me.”

She hissed as he lay down another precise, well-measured blow. A fiery sting immediately followed. The next strokes came in a trio of evenly spaced lashes on her right cheek with the wide leather strap. Immediately after, three blows landed across the crest of her left cheek. Equal blazes burned her behind in perfect symmetry.

“You took my truck and locked me out of my own house.”

“Marc! Please.” Tears stung her eyes as his belt set her ass on fire; worst of all, she knew he wasn’t nearly done.

“You drove my vehicle, which I have said several times is too big for you. It has a clutch that you are unfamiliar with, and still you took it, knowing I didn’t want you to drive it, and risked your life further by doing so in the freezing rain.”

The belt continued to fall throughout his lecture. She’d deliberately pushed him, feeling justified. He was as much in the wrong in this fiasco. She was still angry, and her ire made her foolhardy. She began to struggle in earnest.