The Wager Page 17

  Jake got out of the car and slammed the door. “Right, and end up getting arrested for saying the wrong anatomical word to a small child. I can only imagine how that could be taken. Jake Titus flashes small child in parking lot.”

  “Oh, come on!” Char threw her hands in the air. “You’re exaggerating. The media isn’t that bad.”

  “Um, yes they are.” Jake opened the door for her, and the smell of organic coffee floated around them in the shop. “And how can you defend the media? You know as well as I do that a story about me helping a small child would only get twisted into me somehow stealing their ice cream or something.”

  Char reached for his hand and squeezed it. “The media isn’t against you.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you watch the news?” Jake clenched her hand within his and refused to let it go. In fact, he was holding it hostage, forever. Wow, mature.

  They walked up to a small bistro that served coffee and sandwiches and made their way inside.

  “What will it be?” The barista asked, eying Jake up and down and completely ignoring Char and everyone else within her vicinity. Why did it suddenly bother him so much that women checked him out and openly ignored Char?

  Irritated, Jake lied. “My fiancée and I—well, we just got back from getting our marriage license.” He sighed longingly and gazed into Char’s eyes. “And the thing is, I want to celebrate with my sweetum’s favorite drink. I want it to be extra sweet, just like her.” Oh, gag him.

  With a giggle, Char turned into him and wrapped her arms around his neck, playing right along. Though she seemed a bit stiff in his arms. Jake whispered go with it, in her ear and before he knew what was happening she said. “But, baby, all I really need is you.”

  She kissed him.

  And suddenly… Hell, forget about holding her hand. He was taking her mouth hostage. With a groan he kissed her back, sliding his tongue into her mouth. Tasting her would never get old. He craved everything about her, the way her hands played with the longer hair at the nape of his neck, the graze of her teeth against his lips.

  “Excuse me?” The barista said loudly. “There are people behind you and children present. Geez, get a room.”

  With strength he nearly didn’t possess, Jake pulled back and glared at the barista. “Already got one, but thanks for the suggestion. Two iced coffees with cream.” Without releasing Char, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  The barista flushed red and mumbled a thank you as Jake pulled Char away from the counter and then attacked her mouth again.

  Char was saying something, but he didn’t care.

  Damn, if they’d been anywhere but a public place he’d already have her stripped. He’d completely lose himself in her, and it wouldn’t be just once. No, it would be a marathon of Olympic proportions. He’d chain her to the bed so she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to.

  Wow, never took himself for the BDSM type of guy until now. Until the thought of her actually rejecting or leaving him was potentially a reality.

  “Jake.” Char’s lips were cherry red from his assault, and swollen at every plump angle. “She’s not watching anymore. That is why you did that, right? You can stop.”

  “Right.” He breathed. “I figured.” He tried to get his ragged breathing under control as he heard air escape her swollen lips.

  “But you kept kissing me.”

  “I did.”

  “Two iced coffees on the bar!” someone called out.

  Without waiting for Char to ask any more questions, Jake picked up the drinks and led her outside.

  After Char took a sip, she opened that lush mouth to speak, but her phone went off again.

  “Yes, Grandma? Yes, we have the license. No, no we, no—”

  With a curse Char put the phone on the table. “Do you think they’d put a shot of vodka in this if I asked?”

  “Do I need to get you help?” Jake winked.

  “Shut up. Grandma needs us to get together the rest of the details for the joint Bachelorette and Bachelor party.”

  “Wait.” Jake paused, his drink halfway to his lips. “Joint?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Why? I thought Travis was going to let me—”

  “Travis no longer has possession of his balls.” Char sipped on her drink and chewed her straw. “I think we can all agree Grandma has him in a vise grip. Until he gets married, it’s going to stay that way.”

  “Poor bastard.”

  “Tell me about it.” Char shook her drink. “If it was me and I was getting married, I’d go somewhere far, far away, or just not tell anyone.”

  “Good plan. Tell Grandma after you get married, but be sure to do it over the phone so when she pulls out her gun the only thing she has to shoot it at is the wall.”

  Char’s smile made a direct hit to his gut. He had to look away. “So, where do we have to go now?”

  Shifting in her chair, Char sipped the rest of her drink and avoided eye contact. “Well, uh, Grandma had high tea planned but scratched it this morning.”

  “Why?”

  “Petunia arrived.”

  “Ah! Great Aunt Petunia.” Memories of Aunt Petunia were always so warm: she knitted him the ugliest scarves every Christmas but never failed to send him birthday cards. She’d even attended all his graduations and a few of his baseball games. Too bad Grandma and Petunia hated each other. “Wait, why aren’t you guys doing the high tea?”

  Char made a face. “Well, it seems Grandma has something more lively planned for Petunia’s visit.”

  “How lively?”

  Char didn’t answer.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Jake stood in the middle of the Pleasure Room and tried to keep his eyes focused on the lady telling him all about the party. Her lips were moving but damn if he wasn’t having a hard time paying attention. Any guy would. Damn, he was uncomfortable.

  “Now.” The lady pulled out a sheet of paper. “Just put a check mark next to all the products you’d like me to display, I’ll be sure to show up early. Oh, and there’s an extra charge for costumes.”

  “Costumes?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course! I thought Nadine told you on the phone! The bridal party will be in costume. She’s picked the theme: Leather and Lace! Fantastic, right?”

  The lady popped her gum and winked at Jake.

  Consequently, he almost swallowed his tongue. “So you’ll be bringing the costumes and then we—”

  “Wear them.” She smiled. “While I display the products. People will eat, drink wine—“

  “Scotch.” Jake corrected. “Large amounts of Scotch.”

  She waved him off. “Whatever your preference, yes. And then people can go into rooms and have a closer look at the items, if you get my meaning.” She bit her lip and squeezed Jake’s arm.

  “Great.” Char said crisply to his right. “I’ve been wanting to try the uh”—she read from the list—“Whip me pack for a really long time.”

  Jake gave Char a helpless look. It was impossible that she seemed to expect him to keep a straight face. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate? Leather? Lace? Whips? He gripped the table and tried to keep his breathing even.

  “Well, I’ll just leave you two to decide.”

  “Do that,” Jake snapped. His teeth were clenched so hard he was going to get lockjaw.

  Once the lady was out of earshot, Jake exhaled and leaned over the table.

  “You all right?” Char patted his back.

  “Don’t touch me.” He didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but he was literally two seconds away from losing his mind.

  “Ah.” Char continued touching him, damn her. “Sexual tension. Been a long time, my friend? You feeling a bit… stressed?” Her hands moved across his back and then to his neck. He groaned.

  “Enjoying the list, I see!” The lady’s voice came from the back room.

  Shaking himself a bit, Jake stepped away from Char. “You pick. Jus
t put check marks next to things. I don’t care.”

  “Really.” Char slowly walked toward him. Even the metal of the counter jabbing into his back wasn’t enough to cool his arousal. “You don’t care?”

  “Nope.” He lied. Oh he cared; he cared way too much.

  “How about”—she lifted the sheet and read off a few things he didn’t even know how to spell let alone pronounce. “You think those would be good products?”

  “God and Grandma have it in for me,” he said honestly. “That’s what I think. I also think”—he pushed away from the counter and stalked toward Char as she backed up—“that if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

  “Like what?” Her eyes pleaded with his. Shit, they were practically begging him to kiss her.

  With a curse he turned away, breaking eye contact. “Like that.”

  “Ready?” The lady came back around the corner.

  “Not really.” Char handed her the sheet. “Can you just pick for us? I’m sure whatever you choose will be fine.”

  With a shrug, the lady grabbed the paper and then handed them a card. “I’ll be at the house around seven to set up. See you tonight!”

  “Tonight?” Jake and Char said in unison.

  The lady looked confused. “Yes, tonight. I’ve been told the rehearsal dinner is on Saturday, and today’s Friday. It’s the only available night for this type of demonstration.”

  “Well, how long does it take?” Jake asked.

  “Oh, honey.” She winked. “If that’s your question, you really aren’t doing it right.”

  Char had to physically pull him from the store. Not doing it right? Not doing it right?

  * * *

  If the look on Jake’s face was any indication, he was just ready to slap someone. “Whoa, there, cowboy. Calm down.” She walked him to the car, feeling every inch of his muscles as they flexed beneath her hands.

  “Not doing it right?” he repeated, this time in a softer voice, as if he was really trying to figure out if he’d been doing it wrong this whole time. “Char?” He looked up. Oh no. Oh hell no.

  “Hmm?” She played with her hair and looked away.

  “Did I?”

  “Did you what?”

  He was silent.

  And then he cursed for a good few minutes. “You know what I’m asking.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I don’t think I—”

  “Char.” Jake walked around the car and reached for her. What she should have done was laughed off his concerns and pulled away. The smart choice would’ve also been to lie her ass off, but she couldn’t, not with him touching her like he was. Or with the full force of his chiseled face so close to hers. “Answer the question.”

  With her heart slamming against her chest, Char swallowed past the dryness in her throat and answered. “You may have to remind me since the memory’s kinda fuzzy…”

  He broke out into a grin. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think I can manage that.” His hands slid up her sides.

  And then her damn phone went off again.

  Work.

  Crap. Jake took a step away while she hit ignore.

  “Something wrong?” His brows drew together in concern.

  “Nope. It’s actually, really good.” She stepped up on her tiptoes and kissed him hard on the mouth.

  With a groan he placed both hands on either side of her and used his body to push hers against the car. “What are we doing?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Kissing.”

  His tongue dove into her mouth. It was impossible to describe the way he kissed, the way he tasted. Heat pounded in hundreds of places all over her body; her nerves were on edge so that every single touch of his tongue sent shivers all the way to her toes; and even when he touched her lightly she was a puddle at his feet.

  Everything he did seemed to singe her, mark her. If this was kissing, she would be ruined for all other men’s kisses.

  “Are you”—he pulled back—“sure you want this?” It was the most vulnerable she’d ever seen him. His eyes were filled with need but it was more than that; it was… desire and insecurity. Her whole life she had wanted to be his security, his rock. She’d wanted the best of both worlds, friends turned into lovers, and now she felt as if she could actually have it.

  “I’m sure.”

  The phone rang again.

  Jake cursed. “Seriously, I’m going to throw your phone into the river.”

  She stole a peek and sighed. “It’s Grandma. We either take the call or suffer the consequences.”

  Jake took the phone from Char and answered it, putting her on speakerphone. “This better be good.” His eyes darkened as he licked his lips.

  “I’m dying!” Grandma wailed from her end.

  “Are you at the house? Where are you?” Jake shouted.

  “The house! Hurry!”

  “Shit!” Jake unlocked the car doors and they scrambled inside.

  Panicked, Char could only grip the seat as he drove and hope that Grandma would be okay. She had to have the worst timing in the world!

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Jake pulled the BMW up to the house and left it running as he jumped out of the car and ran toward the front door. “Grandma!”

  “Jake!” She flew out of the front door, her purse in hand. “Take me to the hospital.”

  He paused. She looked absolutely fine. In fact, she had on a nice white pantsuit and her giant black sunglasses. She stomped by him and opened the car’s back door.

  “Hi, Char.” She slammed the door behind her.

  And then Jake saw the object of her disdain waltz out the door after her.

  Petunia.

  From the pinched look on her face, Jake could tell it hadn’t been a good meeting. Petunia’s oversized pink cardigan was wrapped around a turtleneck top, even though it was summertime. Nude-colored tights peaked out from beneath a long jeans skirt. The outfit was complete with orthopedic shoes.

  “Oh, Jake!” Petunia giggled. “I’ve missed my boy!”

  He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “Aunt Petunia, you don’t look a day over fifty.”

  “Oh you.” She swatted him with her hand.

  Her white hair was pulled in a knot at the top of her head; her overly large glasses slid off her nose. She pushed them up and put her hands on her hips. “She’s not dying, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I figured.” Jake looked back at the car, where Grandma had just finished reapplying her lipstick and smacked her lips together.

  “She didn’t have a car.” Petunia looked past him. “The rest of the gang ran out to do wedding errands, leaving just me and Nadine to our lonesome.”

  “Any blood I have to clean up?” Jake looked behind her into the house. “Or broken dishes? Anything?”

  “Of course not.” Petunia sniffled. “I was merely having a conversation with Nadine about her loud outfit.”

  “But she’s wearing white.” Jake scratched his head, confused. “Don’t you like white?”

  “It’s not the color, dear.” She pointed. “That woman is wearing red spiked heels, and when she showed them to me, do you know what I saw?”

  “What?”

  “A tattoo!” Petunia wailed and then crossed her heart and pulled out her prayer beads.

  “It’s probably fake.” Jake lied. Right; Grandma had probably gotten the tattoo just to piss off her sister.

  “It’s not! I asked!” Petunia stuffed her beads back into her shirt and sighed. “I just don’t want her to go to hell. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Tattoos don’t send people to hell.”

  “You’re right.” Petunia straightened. “God does, and the minute he sees that tattoo all bets are off!” With a huff she turned and walked back into the house.

  Women. Rubbing the back of his neck, Jake walked up to the car and knocked
on the window. Grandma lowered it but refused to make eye contact. Just pouted and looked straight ahead.

  “Well, go on now.” She licked her lips. “Sass me.”

  “Grandma, I’m not going to sass you,” Jake said, flabbergasted. “But why can’t you just try to get along?”

  “I wore white!” She pointed her finger in the direction of the house. “And that, that woman, said I was an abomination!”

  “Right. So you probably should have hid the tattoo.”

  “Mr. Casbon got me that tattoo in Hawaii last winter. It was a gift. I can’t just say no to a gift.”

  “Mr. Casbon?” Char asked from the front seat.

  “Neighbor,” Jake growled. “Don’t ask.”

  “He has a walker now,” Grandma added. “It’s harder for him to get around, though he is much more creative these days.” She chuckled. “You’ll meet him at the wedding.”

  “Can’t wait.” Char grinned and winked at Jake.

  “All right.” Jake opened the door. “Let me see it.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Pull up the pant leg. Let me see it.” He pointed down at her leg. “If you don’t let me see it I’m announcing it in the local church bulletin.”

  Grandma gasped. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “He would,” Char said. “Believe me, his apple definitely fell from your tree.”

  Grandma smiled. “That’s my boy.”

  “Up.” Jake motioned, ignoring the compliment.

  “Fine.” Grandma pulled up her pant leg. The tattoo was really colorful; in fact it would’ve been a really pretty tattoo if the woman in the hula skirt wasn’t naked.

  “Sailor Jerry,” Jake guessed.

  At Char’s gasp Grandma said, “It’s a classic! Why, we had these around war time!”

  “Naked is still naked, war or no war,” Jake said.

  “Topless,” Grandma shrugged, “is not naked. It’s not as if I have the girls—”

  “And you’re done talking,” Jake interrupted. “So what do we do? Char and I have to plan this joint party you’ve suddenly come up with out of nowhere and you don’t want anything to do with Petunia.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Grandma got out of the car. “Fine, I’ll play nice. Just don’t let that, that, woman, near me!”