Nautier and Wilder, Page 2

  So close . . .

  A heavy knocking at the door had them stilling.

  Piper struggled to open her eyes, meeting his gaze as his head jerked up from where his lips had strayed to her midriff.

  “Hey, Jed, we have to run.” Elijah Grant was on the other side, his knuckles rapping against the glass of the patio doors across from the bed once again. “You ready?”

  “Please,” she whispered, suddenly desperate that she not be seen here, with him, all but naked and fucked in his bed.

  Oh, God, what was she doing?

  * * *

  Jed could see the sudden panic flaring in her gaze. The instant withdrawal the second she consciously realized just how close she was to having given in to him wasn’t lost on him. The hunger that kept them bound to each other wasn’t going to go away. No matter how hard he fought it, no matter how desperately she denied it.

  “Give me ten minutes,” he called out to Elijah. “I’ll meet you at the bikes.”

  She was trembling beneath him.

  The feel of the subtle tremors racing through her delicate body had the power to piss him off as nothing else could. It was like this every time he neared her, every time the hunger flared between them. She would tremble, get that look of wariness in her eyes, and instantly retreat.

  He was damned sick of her retreating.

  “Why are you scared of me?” Focusing his gaze back on her, careful to keep his voice too low to carry beyond the room, he demanded an answer.

  “I am not scared of you.” Determination and fiery stubbornness filled the deep sea green of her eyes and tightened the kittenish features of her face.

  “Then what are you scared of?” Lowering his voice further, Jed brushed his lips against the swollen curves of Piper’s while fighting the nearly overwhelming need to steal another kiss. To forget his partner was awaiting him and that now was not the time to make slow, easy love to her.

  He would never pull himself from her if he did.

  Elijah could walk in on them and it wouldn’t stop Jed from having her.

  “Don’t you have to go to work or something?” she muttered instead as she pushed at his shoulders. “Let me up, Jed, before Elijah starts picking the lock.”

  Elijah sure as hell wasn’t above it if he thought the situation warranted it.

  “What makes you think he would pick the lock?” He knew Elijah would do it, but what made her think he would?

  Piper rolled her eyes up at him.

  “Do I really look that stupid to you, Jed?” Mockery filled her gaze as he levered himself from her body.

  He watched silently as she hurriedly pulled the shirt over the swollen mounds of her breasts and pushed the material of her skirt back down her legs before sitting up quickly.

  A second later she was standing and sliding her feet back into the sandals she had somehow managed to lose. Or had pushed from her feet as he picked her up moments ago.

  “You don’t look stupid at all.” Arching a brow, he strode to the chair across the room where he’d laid his clean clothing earlier.

  Pulling boxer briefs over his legs and then the raging erection that refused to soften, he sat down, never taking his eyes from her, and pulled white socks over his feet.

  She wasn’t saying anything more.

  Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts in a classic defensive posture as he almost gave in to the urge to sigh wearily.

  Standing, Jed picked up an ink pen from the table next to him before moving to her once again.

  She always carried her date book, with a small sketch pad in it, with her. At the moment, it was tucked in the side of the cleaning carryall she’d placed on the floor when she entered the room.

  Bending, he pulled the five-by-seven leather-bound journal from the side pocket, flipped it open, then quickly scrawled his cell phone number in the back. The sketch pad enclosed with it was filled with colorful sketches of clothing designs and scrawled with notes. He would have loved to flip through the new designs he only glimpsed, but knew from experience she’d become immediately defensive.

  “What’s that for?” she questioned warily as he finished.

  Tucking the book back in place, Jed straightened and stared down at her with a sense of heavy disappointment.

  “When you decide you can give me a chance to prove that I have no intention of tying you down, Piper, then give me a call.” Yeah, he knew at least part of her problem.

  Strong men, men born with the same arrogant determination her Mackay brother and cousins possessed.

  Capping the pen, he tossed it to the bureau close to the bed, then turned and moved back to the clothing he’d abandoned moments before.

  He was aware of her watching him as he pulled on his jeans, secured the belt he’d already pushed through the belt loops, then pushed his arms into the white, long-sleeved dress shirt he’d chosen to wear.

  White was for meetings; dark colors were for on the job. And all of it was bullshit, despite the sense of fulfillment he was getting from it. Far more fulfillment than the daily lies and undercover crap he was forced to practice.

  “Why would I be afraid you could even come close to tying me down, Jed?” she finally asked, her lips curling into an amused little smile of disbelief. “Really? Do you think I’m attaching more to this”—she waved her arm toward the bed—“than what you intend?”

  Using the chair once again, he sat down, pulled on his boots, and never took his eyes from her.

  “Let’s hope you were,” he told her as he finished and rose to his feet once again. “Because, trust me, Piper, I have more intentions than you could ever imagine.”

  There was the fear.

  It flashed in the bright green of her eyes and tightened her expression as she fought to hold back the response. Hell, she was fighting to hide that fear from him, and he hated it.

  “Good Lord,” she muttered, suddenly reaching down for her bag. “I’m out of here. Remind me to make damned sure you’ve left before I come in to clean your room again.”

  “I wouldn’t put chains on you, Piper.”

  She paused, her hand on the doorknob, her face turned from him as her head lowered.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The edge of anger in her voice wasn’t nearly as well hidden as he was certain she would have liked.

  “Yeah, you do, Piper.” He rejected the instant denial she gave the moment she turned her back on him. “You think if you take me as a lover then you’ll be exchanging your brother’s protectiveness for one far more permanent.”

  “My brother’s protectiveness? Is that what you call it?” She turned back to him then. “Trust me: They named my brother well when they nicknamed him Dawg. He’s tenacious, and guards his territory like a junkyard dog. And he sees every damned one of his sisters, as well as our mother, as his territory. It wouldn’t matter who we took as lovers, he’d still be hovering over us like a damned pit bull.”

  There was no anger or heat in the words, only a sense of regret and uncertainty. In the past year, her life hadn’t exactly been her own, as her brother did everything in his power to ensure the danger that had threatened her older sister didn’t touch the younger ones.

  “Nevertheless,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t put ties on you. I wouldn’t treat you as though you didn’t have the good sense to understand whether your life was in danger or not, and the intelligence to know whether you can live life as usual, sit tight, or just plain hide.”

  She watched him warily. “You’re the same type of male Dawg, Rowdy, and Natches are.” She finally informed him, and it was clear she believed it to the bottom of her soul. “Having you for a lover would be like sleeping with human handcuffs.”

  God help him, he swore he could see the pai
n and disillusionment filling her very soul. It was in the weariness of her voice and the soul-deep certainty that filled it.

  “I would defend you with my life,” he admitted. “But I would also defend your right to a life, Piper. When you decide you’re tired of being a frightened little girl rather than the independent woman I know you are, then let me know. Perhaps once you’ve figured out which you are, then we can resume all the pleasure we were interrupted in this morning.”

  Her shoulders tightened, defiance and denial immediately flashing in her gaze.

  Jed didn’t hang around to hear her argument or her reasons for her beliefs; they would just piss him the fuck off.

  He knew the past year had been hell on her and her younger sisters. Eve, the eldest, had pranced from the suite she’d lived in for the past five years and moved in with the government agent she was now engaged to, perfectly content to fight her battles of independence and keep her opinions private within the secured houseboat they were currently living in at the lake.

  Eve had left her younger sisters to face the fallout with her brother and cousins. Her sisters, though, had never been given a full explanation of why that overprotectiveness had suddenly increased, or when it would end. Though he knew Piper had her suspicions.

  Jed couldn’t explain what had happened either, not yet, not until he knew Piper understood his intentions where she was concerned.

  But hell, in order to make her understand them, he was going to have to figure them out himself.

  One thing was certain: He intended to have her in his bed. And he sure as hell didn’t intend to let her go anytime soon once he had her there.

  Hell, why couldn’t he imagine ever letting her go, period?

  ONE

  ONE MONTH LATER

  She was going to cave.

  Piper could feel it coming. She could feel that bond of pleasure Jed had created four weeks before tightening between them, pulling them together.

  She’d taken Eve’s suite on the first floor of Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn after her sister had moved in with her lover, Brogan Campbell.

  Brogan had been staying in the suite next to Eve’s for the two years he had been there doing whatever it was he was doing. She had a feeling he was a hell of a lot more than a building contractor or supervisor or whatever the hell he claimed to be. She was all but certain he was a covert agent and working directly with her mother’s lover, Timothy Cranston.

  And she highly suspected both Jedediah Booker and the other contractor staying at the inn, Elijah Grant, were Brogan’s partners.

  There had been strange things going on in Somerset—hell, in Pulaski County, period—for the past few years: thefts that didn’t make sense, strangers who knew far too much about the people and the mountains where Piper now made her home. And far too many “disappearances” of several of the criminal elements in the county.

  It was damned freaky.

  And she knew Jed was involved in it.

  She watched them, she listened to the gossip and rumors that moved through the county, and she had a hell of an ability to tie together things that at first might not appear connected.

  It was a talent she’d often heard Dawg had as well.

  It didn’t matter what kind of talent she had. She could be as fully trained as any agent who had ever worked with her brother and he’d still treat her like a five-year-old.

  And so would Jed.

  Pulling the older-model Jeep into the driveway of the post office, she set the parking brake before turning off the ignition and moving from the vehicle.

  Sliding the small orange notification card from her purse, she looped the bag’s strap over her shoulder and pushed open the glass door leading into the building.

  “Hey there, Piper.”

  “Piper, how’s it goin’ . . .”

  “Hello, Piper, missed you last weekend. . . .”

  “Hey, Piper, Dawg going to let you come out and play this weekend?”

  She heard it every time she ran into the usual crowd of summer weekend partiers. Because Piper, normally the life of the party, had been absent or joined by her brother or cousins every time she tried to slip out to one of the lake parties. A Mackay always arrived within minutes of her showing up, and what was the point of staying if she was being guarded? She returned the greetings, answered where she had to, and waited patiently in line to sign for the certified letter she’d been notified was waiting for her.

  The New York City address hadn’t really meant anything to her; neither had the name of the sender: S. Chaniss.

  Accepting the envelope from the young clerk behind the counter, Piper thanked her quietly before making her way back to the Jeep.

  Closing herself in and restarting the ignition, Piper flipped on the AC and quickly tore open the envelope.

  She scanned the letter first; then, as disbelief set in and her heart began racing furiously, she read it more slowly.

  Her hand began to tremble. Excitement began to build.

  She’d been making her own clothing designs since she was a child, and for nearly as long she had been sewing those designs together. She’d learned early how to use a needle and thread, and she’d torn her fingertips to ribbons as a child to perfect each and every stitch.

  Now . . . now someone had noticed them. Someone of such renown in the fashion world that she had never imagined he would show an interest in her work.

  Eldon Vessante, one of the biggest names in the New York fashion scene, had, for several years, been bringing in hot new designers, up to three a year, and staging exclusive runway shows for them.

  By mentoring new talent he’d made an even bigger name for himself, and each designer he’d mentored was still a hot topic among the fashion world. And their designs were still being worn by models, movie stars, and the rich and famous.

  Piper had sent several of her designs to the Vessante panel more than a year ago.

  No one knew she had submitted the required six designs to the Vessante team. She hadn’t even told her mother. Hell, she’d forgotten about it months ago when no response had been forthcoming.

  His assistant had sent the letter—she quickly checked the date—two days ago?

  Oh, my God—they had chosen her designs!

  She wanted to scream.

  She wanted to jump out of the Jeep and announce it to everyone on the street as they made their way into the post office and various businesses that lined the sidewalk.

  She wanted to call her mother and Dawg. . . .

  Whoa.

  Bad idea.

  Very, very bad idea.

  She really wanted to call Jed, and that was an even worse idea, because there was no way, despite his promise, that he wouldn’t let Dawg in on where she was going and what she was doing.

  She read the letter again.

  The excitement was about to get the best of her.

  This was her dream. It was that one-in-a-million shot to realize every dream she’d ever had of what she could accomplish with the talent she had.

  And she couldn’t tell anyone.

  She lifted her head, moving her gaze from the letter to stare through the Jeep windshield, her excitement suddenly overshadowed by a heavy sadness. If she dared to say anything to anyone, then she would end up with more bodyguards on that trip than the queen of England. And wouldn’t that make a hell of an impression?

  If she thought for a moment that Dawg, Rowdy, or Natches would consider just one of them accompanying her, then it might have swayed her. She knew better, though. For the past summer, they seemed to be everywhere together. Piper had even gone so far as to ask them whether they were married to their wives or to one another.

  She’d even questioned why. Why had her s
ister been kidnapped the summer before? Who had done it? Why had they done it? All she’d received in answer was a closed expression and change of topic. And the certainty that her brother and cousins, along with Timothy Cranston, were involved in something far more dangerous than they wanted their sisters to be aware of.

  Carefully pushing the letter back into the large envelope it had arrived in, she turned it over and stared at the address once again.

  S. Chaniss, the address read. New York City.

  There was no way anyone at the post office could really place exactly whom the letter was from or what it contained. Hiding it and the contents from curious eyes wouldn’t be too hard.

  Putting the Jeep in gear and pulling from the post office parking lot, she turned the vehicle toward home.

  This sucked.

  The rebellious resentment that had been brewing inside her for the past year flamed through her senses with a suddenness that made it nearly burst into full-fledged anger.

  It simply wasn’t fair. She should have been able to shout this accomplishment far and wide. At the very least she should have been able to race to the boutique where she sold many of the unique clothing designs she created.

  She couldn’t even do that.

  Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel as she drove out of town and made the turn toward Mackay’s Bed-and-Breakfast Inn.

  As the renovated farmhouse came into view, Piper couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that had it not been for her brother Dawg, then her mother would have died and she and her sisters would have been worse than homeless.

  They’d been abandoned by Chandler Mackay long before the Department of Homeland Security had found the small house he’d purchased for her mother when he’d brought her from Guatemala. When they’d been thrown from that home, her mother, Mercedes, had been horribly ill with a lung infection the doctors had been unable to treat.

  It was only after Timothy Cranston had brought them to Somerset and introduced them to Dawg that their lives had changed. Dawg had ensured that her mother’s medical care was paid for while Piper and her sisters had found security, and they had all found a family unlike any Piper could have imagined.