Chapter Fifteen

Lacy couldn’t stop shaking. Her hands weren’t all that was cold.

“I trust you,” Jake reminded her, his eyes forward. “Make me look good.”

Well, he’d better trust her. A woman with a pair of scissors in her fingers could be mighty scary, especially one who already painted ghosts for a hobby. Holding a strand of his hair above his head, she held her breath and took the first snip that would turn him from vagrant to civilized. The man had a gorgeous head of hair now that she’d brushed the tangles out and had her fingers sifting through it.

She hated cutting it, but he needed to fit the profile of a businessman, and he refused to wear it in a man bun or a ponytail. He said it made him look like a sissy and no Marine wanted that look.

For now, Jamaal had fallen asleep on the floor alongside the couch. He said he preferred the floor and she understood. She did too sometimes. It connected her to her old life. To her friends in the Corps.

It was past midnight and their plan to infiltrate Poindexter’s office was in place. They’d pooled what little financial resources they had. Jamaal knew where he could pick up a second-hand suit and matching men’s dress shoes for Jake at a local thrift shop in the morning—if someone hadn’t already bought them. He’d pick up three burner phones on his way back. If Jake was as good as he thought, this nightmare could be over by noon tomorrow.

She’d Googled Poindexter’s office address. It ended up being in Foggy Bottom, instead of in the District like Marlee had said. One of the oldest neighborhoods in D.C., its name derived from the industrial haze and fog off the Potomac River to its south. George Washington University took up most of Foggy Bottom’s real estate, but Rafe Poindexter’s recently built office building stood like a beacon of extreme wealth overlooking the river. Facing south, its mirrored glass windows by day were outlined by muted blue lights by night, making it look as if it belonged in Las Vegas instead of the nation’s capital.

He owned the entire fifteen-story building and leased all but the ground floor where his real estate office was located. According to his on-line ad, thirty-three agents worked for him. They were listed along with their pictures. Jake had immediately recognized the two who’d beaten him up. Rocky Rabbit’s real name was Bret Clayton. Ferret Face was Leo Shunck.

The plan was simple. Step one: Lacy would call Rafe first thing in the morning. She’d insist on speaking with him personally, because she had a blackmail offer he couldn’t refuse. Only she had to meet him in person. That ought to get Rafe out of his office in a hurry. His henchmen, too.

Only Lacy and her cohorts wouldn’t be at the meet-me address she was supposed to give him. They’d already be in Foggy Bottom and watching his office from a safe distance. Once Rafe and his thugs cleared out, step two would commence. Jake would enter the building on the pretext of being one of Rafe’s fraternity brothers. The things a person could learn on the Internet.

Jake would pass himself off as Bernie Rothschild, the same college friend who’d trounced Rafe in a previous real estate venture that ended up costing him millions and a lot of pride. Jake’s resemblance to Rothschild was uncanny. He figured he could schmooze his way into Rafe’s office to wait for him, because while Rafe might be proud, he was also greedy. He’d want another chance at his old fraternity brother.

At that point Jake, aka, Bernie, would divulge his plan to publicly declare a merger with his Fortune 500 company, East-Go-Tech, and Rafe’s real estate business that could make Rafe millions.

Crunch time started once Jake was inside Poindexter’s office under the pretext of fraternal camaraderie. If Rafe fell for Lacy’s threat of blackmail, he’d be on his way to Anacostia, a good drive from Foggy Bottom on a good day. Once there, Jake would make the second call as Rothschild, to bring Rafe running back. Another thirty minutes.

That gave Jake an hour to locate the information on the girls from Cambodia, and get his ass out of Dodge before Poindexter made it back to his office. The plan hinged on pride, greed, and on Jake keeping his cool.

Jamaal had said, ’Ain’t nothing hard about it.’

But Lacy thought, ’Sounds impossible to me.’

Pinching another section of Jake’s silky hair in her trembling fingers, she eyed the portion she’d already cut and snipped again to the same length. Jamaal snored like a banshee while section-by-section, Jake’s shaggy hair fell to the floor. With every snip, a very handsome man emerged beneath her hands. By the time she’d taken the electric shaver to his neckline, Lacy was trembling for another reason all together. She’d always been attracted to the neckline of a strong man, but damn. This guy cleaned up nice.

“Wait,” she said, needing to make a minor adjustment to the length over his left ear. “I can do better. Hold still.”

She’d left his hair longer on top. Streaks of mahogany mingled with dark browns fell to his forehead, but it was a hack job at best. Raking her fingers through his hair to make sure all lengths were semi-even, she froze. The tips of her breasts were mere inches from his lips, and his hands were suddenly on her hips as if he needed to hold her in place. Like that helped. Every calloused fingertip of his burned through the thin fabric of her scrub top to her skin. Dark gray eyes peered up at her from beneath the thickest black eyelashes that no man had a right to own, and she knew damned well that her nipples were all but shouting for his attention, the treacherous, swollen little traitors.

“Could I talk you into giving me a shave while you’re at it?” he asked innocently, his palms warming her thighs and other places he hadn’t touched yet.

Uh-huh. Yeah. You can talk me into anything. Liquid heat spiraled to her core. She couldn’t break eye contact, and she was melting at his feet.

“Lacy?” he asked as if she might not have heard. Did he have chapped lips or what? He kept running his tongue over the bottom, licking it like she wanted to lick him.

“Sure,” she answered breathlessly. If one of them didn’t blink pretty soon, she’d combust on the spot, right there. All over him. “But I only have the shaving cream I use, umm, for my legs.”

“Legs. Face. I’m sure it all works the same.”

Heat flamed up her neck at the thought of their faces and legs in close proximity. As quiet as this guy could be, Jake certainly knew how to tweak her libido. Easing away from him before she went up in flames, she set the dangerous scissors in her shaking fingers on the counter and went to retrieve something even more deadly. Her razor.

Determined to get her mind out of the gutter, Lacy marched to her bathroom and shut the door behind her before she flicked the light on. The woman smiling back from her bathroom mirror positively glowed.

Trembling, Lacy gathered her shaving supplies, another towel, and a washcloth for later. She changed the cartridge in her razor. That beard was tough. Stiffening her resolve, she opened the bathroom door.

The sound of her vacuum caught her by surprise. Lacy gulped, paralyzed from the neck down. Jamaal still snored from the floor. The noise of the vacuum didn’t seem to faze him, but it was fazing her. At least the man using it was.

Jake’s shirt now hung over the back of her couch. For a low-life transient, he was built. Pure muscle. Wiry muscle. Lean. Trim. Hard as a rock muscle. His neck and arms were tanned in the way of guys who worked for a living. His broad back was clean. No USMC tattoos marred him, at least not as far as she could see. Lat and traps, holy hell he was packed. Narrow at the waist but thick and solid from there on up. His biceps bunched, stretched, and contracted as he pushed and pulled her cheap little second-hand vacuum. Damn. He made it look like a toy.

To make it better, he was singing, his voice low and nearly overwhelmed by the noise of her vacuum, but not enough that she couldn’t detect the tenderness in his deep baritone. The passion. He closed his eyes and his voice lifted into a heartrending, “Bring him home!”

Lacy’s fingertips reached out to him. She wanted to touch. The guy was to-die-for gorgeous, a bit rough around the edges but one hundred and fifty percent male, and he was in her living room, singing his heart out and working it like a Chippendale stripper. All he needed was the black bowtie around his neck and—

How am I going to shave him now? My hands are shaking. I’ll hurt him.

Jake looked up from his chore and turned the vacuum off. A puzzled smile shifted through his gaze. “Did you say something?”

“Umm, no,” she said, embarrassed unto death because she might’ve blurted that last thought out loud. “You sing?”

His shoulders lifted. “Les Misérables. Sorry. Jean Valjean sings it much better than me. I don’t do it justice.”

She couldn’t stop staring. “It was amazing.”

He shrugged, wrapping the cord around the vacuum’s handle. “Ready?”

Lacy nodded. “Yes, um, take your seat.”

He obeyed instantly and resumed his position at the slaughter, umm, chair. But damn. How did a horny woman, one who could barely keep her hands steady, shave a half-naked man, when she’d rather hang on to those handsome body parts? Right on cue, she fumbled the scissors and they fell. He caught them neatly before they hit the carpet, turned the handles back to her, and it was all she could do to not meet his gaze. One look would do her in.

“Thanks,” she offered a raspy appreciation and took the scissors without touching his fingers. Or looking into his eyes. “It’s shaggy.” And thick and sexy. “I’ll need to trim the length first.” If my fingers will stop shaking.

He gave her a quick nod of agreement, lifted his chin like an USMC enlistee about to be shaved jarhead style, high and tight. It was all Lacy could do to swallow. He might be sitting there with his hands politely flat to his thighs, but—those thighs. She wanted to be straddling those monsters, not leaning against them.

Once she made the first cut, it was easier to focus on what she was doing and how she had to do it. NOT. This was damned personal work on a gorgeous male, and she was touching his face, nose, and lips, not just the hair on his head. Her fingers refused to stop trembling.

By the time the beard on his sharp rugged chin was shorn to a manageable length, she was drenched and throbbing. Her toes kept curling. How could she continue revealing him, body part by sexy body part, and still give him a proper—and safe—shave?

This handsome face was all hard edges and angles from the jut of his brows over his sexy eyes to his squared-off, delectably clean-shaven jaw. And it was tough not to notice how his nostrils flared. The man seemed to be drawing in steady breaths of—me.

Arousal slammed into her at what he was smelling. Her body’s desire. For him. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she traded the scissors for her razor. Her pink razor. Now the tricky part.

“Don’t you want to apply shaving cream first?” he asked.

Duh! She cringed, stalked to her kitchen sink and ran hot water over the washcloth, sucking in enough air to clear her frazzled mind. “Yes. Sorry. I was—” What? Distracted as hell? Horny as all get out?

“Never mind,” she said brusquely. “Tip your head back.”

His obedience Did. Not. Help! The second he did as she’d ordered, every muscle south of her heaving ribcage clenched. The man was polite, considerate and just plain thoughtful. He’d be so-o-o-o good in bed. Covering his face with the hot wet cloth brought her a short reprieve, but GAH! How was he not affected by the steam rolling between them like waves off the desert? The quicker she finished, the better.

Peeling the cloth off his face, she tossed it into her sink, and lifted the can of shaving cream. If only she could’ve covered those gray ‘portals-to-his-soul’ with the foam. Gallantly she filled her left palm with the pink gel and stepped in close.

“I really do appreciate all you’ve done,” he murmured in that hot sexy baritone that rumbled straight to her groin.

“’S okay,” she said, her fingertips full of gel. With one sweep, she covered those full lips only to discover they were soft. His cheeks and chin went under the foam next. The pink gel turned to white lather when it hit his damp beard, and her knees turned to spaghetti. Leaning backward to the counter, she grasped the handle of her razor and steeled her frazzled nerves. As long as she didn’t look into Jake’s moody eyes, this shouldn’t take long.

God, give me strength. I just need another minute or two.

“Chin up,” she ordered.

His chin lifted, exposing his rugged neck. Carefully, she took long slow strokes up his neck, shorter ones around his lips and under his nose. Between rinsing the blade under the stream of the running hot water in her sink and twisting back to shave another clean path up his face, he’d transformed once more. Inadvertently she’d leaned against his thigh with her elbow at his upper arm to steady her hand to keep from nicking him. Her lower back ached with need.

A puff of heated air hit her arm. “You were right,” he growled as his hands settled to her hips.

That came out of the blue. She paused. Lather streaked his face. She’d missed a few whiskers, but no more freaking foreplay! “I was? Right about what?”

His eyes darkened. With one hand still on her hip, he removed the razor from her fingers and set it on the edge of the counter. He pulled her down to his lap. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life being sorry for what happened yesterday. I can’t change it. I can’t fix it. All I can fix is now and what happened between us today. I’m sorry I made an ass of myself before. I didn’t know what I wanted then, but I know now.”

“Whatever’s haunting you, you can survive it,” she whispered, finger-combing his thick, lush hair. “We can help each other. It’s okay to be two instead of one.”

He groaned, his eyes squeezed tight, against what she didn’t know. Strong emotions radiated off him. “I thought finding Jamaal would make it stop,” he ground out. “I thought saving him would make it go away.”

“Make what go away?”

He took her left hand and placed it over his heart. “This hollow feeling right here,” he said as he moved her palm to his cheek. “And this pain.” He moved her hand to his forehead. “The nightmares.”

She straddled him. Arousal coursed through every inch of her body. Jamaal was just feet away, but she was ready to comply with whatever Jake wanted regardless. Sex in the kitchen? You got it? On the floor? Ready, set, go. But he seemed sad.

She cupped his chin with both hands, her heart opened wide for this tender, battered warrior. “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Let me in. Let me help.”

He took her mouth slowly, tasting her lips and tongue carefully. He seemed almost tentative the way he tilted his head for better access. Breathing was over-rated so she inhaled nothing but him and the scent of shaving cream that came with him. This was all about being with him. When he breathed, so would she. Until then...

The warm hand at her hip slipped to the cheek of her ass. With one gentle clench of his fingers, she was on fire. If he hadn’t tasted so good, she’d have pulled him to the floor and had her way with him, but she couldn’t bring herself to break the connection with his mouth. Not yet. Hunger flamed to life, roaring for satisfaction. He deepened the kiss, and her soul responded in kind.

With both hands on her backside, he secured her legs around his hips and stood. He kept kissing. She kept on tasting. With a few long strides, he angled past the couch and through her bedroom door.

Only when he set her carefully on her bed did she open her eyes to drink him in. The light from the other room did him justice. Rakishly handsome, his hair flopped loose over his forehead, the rest of him trimmed and neat. Rubbing the back of her hand over her lips, she wiped his shaving cream off. She hadn’t noticed his well-defined chest before or the smattering of hairs that delineated his pecs, but she noticed now.

His muscles didn’t bulge like the juicers she’d seen at the clinic, though. His were massive squared-off hunks of granite suspended over a trim waistline, and they were as hard as the rest of him. Her tongue took a trip around the inside of her mouth, hungry for more.

But he was unsure. Hesitant. “Are you sure you want a guy like me?” he asked.

“Jake Weylin,” she growled. How could she get through to him? “Look at me. What the hell do you think?”

Bouncing off the bed, she flipped her light switch on so there would be no doubt left in that hard head of his. Standing in front of him, she tilted her chin up so she could see into his eyes. So he’d know once and for all. Wordlessly, she unbuttoned her top and shrugged it off her shoulders.

He bumped the door shut with his butt, and those dark grays didn’t miss a thing. His gaze softened to hazy when it landed on the tops of her breasts. He almost made her feel embarrassed, but the light in his eyes was nothing short of adoration.

When her fingers unsnapped her jeans and pulled the zipper down, the gray turned to black. His breathing shallowed. She shimmied her ass out of her pants and toed them away. There she stood in nothing but matching mint green bra and panties. The only reason she’d bought this set was the dark green satin bow between the cups of the bra, set off by a red glass bead. They looked Christmassy, like holly and a berry. She’d never intended to be doing a strip show, but for this man? Whatever works.

A smile tugged at the right corner of his mouth. He dropped his pants and underwear and....

Now it was her turn to groan. She gulped loudly, an annoying tell she had to get over one of these days. He had to have heard. The man was—blessed, and by the looks of him, damned sure of what would happen next.

He winked, a sexy smile tweaking his lips. “I like holly.”

She offered her hand, inviting him to her bed. Instead, he gathered her up in one armful and tossed her onto her mattress. Placing both palms to the bottom of the bed, he stalked her. The prey instinct within her quivered when his sinuous shoulders moved like a jungle cat’s. She wanted to run from him as much as to him. Wet with desire, she lifted onto her elbows, half afraid to take her eyes off him. The second she bent both knees and dug her heels in to scoot backwards to her pillows, he pounced. She squealed.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he growled playfully, his hand at her ankle. With one smooth jerk, she was beneath his naked body. Out of breath, heart pounding in her ears, and her legs spread. One hot and sexy man hunkered in between them.

Lacy was as wanton and as ready as hell. She wiggled against him until he snagged both her wrists and raised her arms over her head, pinning her beneath him with his hips. And his tongue. She whimpered at the meal he was making of—her. At the power he held over her, and the way it aroused her. If he didn’t hurry, she’d detonate all over him

“Hi,” she said weakly and totally enamored. Wow, he was a big guy.

Weighing her left breast in his right palm, the sexiest growl rumbled up from deep in his throat. “You’re perfect,” he muttered.

The deep baritone rumble shivered over every tightly strung chord in her body and soul. The panties had to go. She was already too close to the edge. Just one wrong word and she’d—

“Come,” he said, his hand extended to pull her to her feet.

And she did, but not how he’d meant. His gentle foreplay was her undoing. Shockwave after shockwave of screaming heat consumed her while Jake knelt over her in awe, the dearest light in his eyes as he watched her unravel. Finally loved, there was nothing she could do but hold onto him and cry as wave after wave of exquisite pleasure tumbled over her.

“I’m sorry,” he crooned, stretching his rugged body alongside hers. “I didn’t know you were so responsive.”

Yeah, me neither. She swallowed her tears, spent with the quickest climax she’d ever experienced and the rolling aftershocks that came with it. The rollercoaster ride continued with more fireworks at every crest, and barely enough dips on the track to catch her breath. She clung to him. And I intended to seduce him? She’d never gotten out of the gate. If this was what he could do with just his hands and mouth… Penetration would definitely be interesting.

“What you do to me,” she whispered, her cheeks wet with emotion.

The man was pleased with himself. Male pride glittered in those sexy dark eyes. “What you do to me.” Lowering his head, he covered her mouth with his, and the game was on.