Nauti Intentions (Nauti #4)

Nauti Intentions (Nauti #4) Page 40

Janey found herself collapsed back over the desk, her arms lying weakly at her sides, her legs still held in the crook of his arms as his lips moved between her breasts, over the curve. He licked at a still-hard nipple and she jerked at the torturous pleasure of it. Every nerve ending in her body was hypersensitive; even breathing was an agony of sensation, of pleasure.

She was drowsy, exhausted, and ready to curl into bed with him. Unfortunately, her bed was a little destroyed. That meant getting up, cleaning up, and making the trip back to Alex’s house.

“I don’t wanna move,” she moaned as she felt him ease back slowly. “Don’t make me.”

He chuckled. But he didn’t make her move. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the couch before moving to the private bathroom.

She lay there, listening to water running. A second later he was kneeling by the couch, pressing her legs apart to clean her with a soft cloth.

He’d straightened his clothes, but his expression was still drowsy with sated lust, his movements slow and lazy. Tender. Gentle.

“I wrecked your pretty clothes,” he drawled, and looked way too proud of himself as he straightened her bra and shirt.

“The clothes are okay.” She covered a yawn as she settled back against the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve exhausted me, Alex.”

He reached up and touched her face gently. “If you don’t talk to Natches about the general manager position tomorrow, then I’m going to do it for you.”

“Dammit, Alex, you’re messing with my wave here.” She threw her arm over her eyes, blocking out the sight of his determined expression. “Leave me alone.”

“This isn’t going to go on, Janey.”

She did not like the air of command in his voice. It was that military background, she knew. He just popped out orders like they were his to give.

“Don’t tell me what isn’t going to go on, Alex.” She moved her arm and sat up with a frown, tugging her leather skirt back into place.

“You can’t run both dining rooms without larger staff. And you can’t go until midnight or after and still manage to get any rest for the next day.”

“I was doing fine until you ended up in my bed,” she muttered. “You keep me up all night.”

He grunted at that. “Want me to stop fucking you?”

She pursed her lips and sat back against the couch, considering that option.

She finally shrugged. “You wouldn’t.”

Not that she had a problem with it, but it seemed Alex was damned determined to be a “daddy,” no matter what. She was just having more trouble figuring why, and why her. Any single woman in the county would have spread her legs for him gladly.

Not that she didn’t do it gladly.

She was making herself crazy. Janey pushed from the couch, ignoring his brooding look before moving to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. Of course, she didn’t have extra panties in her office. They were now at his house.

She needed a general manager. But she needed Natches to sign off on it. She couldn’t do it without his cooperation. And he wasn’t giving it.

Okay, so it would help if she would just tell him she wasn’t leaving. She braced her hands on the sink and

stared at her own reflection. She was honest with herself at least; she wasn’t leaving. Alex would follow her, and no doubt, the danger would follow her as well.

But she hesitated to tell Natches she wasn’t leaving, because even now she sensed a reluctance in her brother. Perhaps a lingering fear that she was like Dayle? Sometimes she caught a look in his eyes, as though he were assessing her, watching her, for something. And she was terrified he was watching for signs that she truly was the daughter Dayle had everyone convinced she was. Or maybe he was truly so worried she would leave? But that didn’t make sense, because she had never been a part of his life anyway.

Behind the closed bathroom door she wiped her tears away at the thought of that. Because she realized that she didn’t know how to be a sister either. And catching on to the intricacies of being a lover to a man like Alex was more complicated than she had anticipated.

At least the restaurant was thriving enough so that maybe one day she could put other plans in place.

Some days, she dreamed of a lunch crowd, a seven-day-a-week open door on the restaurant. It wasn’t just the money; it was the vision. It was the ability to do all the things she had once believed the restaurant was capable of. Of making it a thriving, popular venture.

She washed her face and sighed wearily at the dream that might never be. She had the chef. She had staff. She had a full house every night. Should she ask for more? Should she ask for love and laughter on top of that?

She let her hand touch her stomach. She didn’t feel pregnant. She didn’t feel different. She felt like a lover, not a woman confident in her man’s love. She was confident in Alex’s commitment to her. She knew he’d stand by his promises no matter what. But she wanted more from him.

She owned him, she reminded herself, because he had made the conscious decision to belong to her and that she would belong to him.

But she loved him. Loved him until he filled parts of her that she hadn’t known actually existed. Parts of herself that still ached in lonely pain, not because they were empty, but because she still felt that aching void. That lack of not just loving but being loved.

Was she asking for too much? God. She had Alex. He had promised her, and Alex didn’t break promises. He’d given himself to her; did she have the right to ask for more, especially in light of the fact that she loved him until she felt as though her heart were breaking with it?

The questions tumbled through her mind, one after the other, always the same, until she felt as though she would lose her mind if she stood there contemplating them much longer.

Breathing in deeply, she smoothed a final tear from her face, a lone droplet of moisture that lingered on her cheek. She had more than she had ever thought she would have. For now, for tonight, she was going to have to let the rest of it be, because there were no answers, not yet, and she knew it.

Teach me how to love, Janey. The words whispered through her mind. Alex’s words. She bit her lip, remembering then just exactly how much he had pledged to her.

Teach me how to love.

Could he love her? One thing was for sure—until they could both sleep without fear of bombs, it was a question that neither of them was going to be able to answer.

Until Alex was confident she was safe, he wouldn’t let his mind be distracted from her protection to consider any emotions he might possibly feel for her. That meant the stalker would have to be identified and caught. She would have to face, eventually, whoever wanted her dead.

Someone wanted her dead.

Pretty much the story of her life, she decided, as she opened the bathroom door and returned to Alex.

Someone wanted to own, control, or take the life she envisioned for herself.

Just as Dayle had wanted to do.

Her stalker had only taken his place.

TWENTY-TWO

Three nights later Hoyt collapsed onto the stool behind the register, and Rogue lifted her tired feet to the small cushioned settee in the waiting room and rested her head on the cushioned back.

Timothy was sprawled in a chair; his gaze was lively, though, and filled with mirth. Natches was cranky but appeared in better spirits after Chaya arrived with Ray. Maria, Ray’s wife, had helped wait tables for two nights; she was beside him on a long bench, while Desmond and the rest of the staff were resting wherever they could before heading home.

“I would say it was a very productive four nights.” Timothy rubbed his hands in obvious glee. “I have to say, Janey, this is the best vacation I’ve ever had.”

With the staff present, Alex had already warned her that no one should know Timothy was part of DHS

or a part of the investigation. Mark and Tyrell were there, leaning in a back corner, supposedly simply friends Alex had pulled in to bus tables.

It was almost funny watching the women lust after the hard abs and tight bodies of her new busboys.

Unless they were staring at Alex. She’d had problems with that.

“I’m exhausted.” Janey draped her arms over the reservation counter and laid her head in them. “Oh God. I just want to sleep.”

“I finished up your paperwork earlier,” Rogue said and yawned. “Really, Janey, you need to get organized. Once I had it in the proper piles, it went quickly.”

“You’re hired,” Janey mumbled into her arms.

Rogue’s laughter was amused, but Janey wasn’t joking. In four days, Rogue had managed to do the impossible. She had organized the paperwork. Janey lifted her head and stared back at her friend silently.

Rogue rolled her eyes, then stared around the room. “Who’s giving me a ride back to the bar? Janey sent her monster sheriff after me this afternoon.”

“Only because you swore your bike was broke,” Janey accused her.

Rogue flipped her red gold curls and gave her an innocent expression. “Sweets, it’s Saturday night. I was supposed to have fun tonight, remember?”

“You did. Three men pinched your butt, one gave you a fifty-dollar tip, and you managed not to break your legs in those heels.”

Timothy smiled with rich amusement.

“If you didn’t have fun,” Janey concluded, “I had fun watching you.”

“God save me,” Natches muttered as Rogue’s laughter tinkled through the waiting room and she stretched her legs before pulling out her phone.

“Watch this,” she drawled and made her call. “Zeke? It’s Rogue.” Her voice became heavy, tired, languorous. “The cabs are all busy and I’m so tired. Please pick me up.” She waited, and Janey watched as her expression flickered with something not so innocent. “Do I have to ride in the back?” She waited, then drawled, “Will you use the handcuffs?”

Pure wicked laughter fell from her lips as she flipped her phone closed. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“Is he using the handcuffs?” Timothy asked with a little too much curiosity.

Rogue pouted. “He said only if I break the law. As though I want to get caught doing that.” She winked at Timothy before rising to her feet and moving for the door. “Nite nite, folks.”

“Are you serious about hiring her?” Hoyt asked as the door closed behind Rogue’s leather-clad form.

“If she’ll take the job.” She looked around at the staff still lingering. “Any objections?”

“She’s fun.” The waitress Tiffany shrugged as she moved to Rogue’s seat.

“She’s smart,” Desmond stated. “Our new sous-chef arrives Monday; this will give me time to prepare him for the rush that comes on Wednesday. His wife is an excellent waitress as well. Opening the new banquet room should be no problem.”

“I don’t think we’re ready for that,” Hoyt argued. “We’re moving too fast, Janey. The banquet room wasn’t even prepared properly this week. The reputation we’re building is going to suffer.”

“Ridiculous,” Desmond snapped. “Quality has not suffered, neither in customer care nor in the food.

We’ve made certain of this. And the profits have surely risen dramatically.” He turned to Janey. “I have run kitchens for years; our output was exceptional as was our quality.”

“And our profits.” Janey nodded. “We did more business in the last four nights than we’ve done in a month. And I agree with the quality.”

“We can’t keep it up,” Hoyt argued again, his expression creasing in concern and a hint of anger. “Janey, this restaurant doesn’t just reflect your name, but your brother’s. You should remember that. When you can’t keep up, the restaurant’s good name will go to hell as well. Just as it did before.”