Chapter 7
Viviana sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to speak calmly. She was determined not to let him see how upset she was. “I want to go home, Jax.”
His rejoinder was curt. “So do I. That’s where we are going.” He added, “My home.”
“No, I—”
He cut her off. “Sorry, princess. My car, my home.” He added, “My rules.”
Jax wasn’t surprised to see the angry flush wash across her face. He would have to be brain-dead not to know that she was angry with him. She’d made that clear when she thrust that fearsome chin of hers in the air and strode across the ballroom, leaving the gaping mayor’s wife and her startled friend staring at Viviana’s curvy backside. Without a backward glance at him, she’d joined her fellow officers, confirming that their company was preferable to the elite guests. Clearly preferable to his.
Excusing himself from the surprised circle of men and women, he shot a knowing glance at Greg Bannon, who nodded in silent agreement. Greg’s troubled frown confirmed that he’d seen the silent fireworks exploding between Viviana and Jax. His annoyance sharpening to anger, Jax wondered how many of the other perplexed-looking guests had seen the sparks glancing off the two of them. Mac’s raised eyebrow confirmed that at least the new police commissioner and Jax’s longtime friend, who also knew the irascible sergeant, was privy to the drama.
Jax wasn’t surprised at the anger flooding him. Goddammit, he’d about had it with Viviana’s temper tantrums and especially her rudeness. For Christ’s sake, was it asking too much for her to be civil? At least to pretend that she was enjoying herself, not being forced to make conversation with people she clearly considered insipid? He’d almost felt sorry for Annabelle Simpson. In his mind, the mayor’s admittedly too-sincere wife had made a halting effort to talk to Viviana. Unfortunately, Annabelle didn’t understand the parameters of a Sergeant Moreau conversation. To start with, unless you were a man, you were already at a disadvantage. If ever there were second-class citizens in Viviana’s world, they were women, and if they happened to be upscale, society women, expect the insolent brat to barely contain her animus. But Jax acknowledged that tonight, the men surrounding the mayor—and him—were treated to the same cool disdain from his temperamental lover as the women. Christ, even Greg Bannon had gotten the stink eye from Viviana when she left them in her daunting wake.
Jax had thought when he marched across the room and hauled her back she understood that at least minimal conversation with the mayor’s invited guests was required. Dammit, it was the price of being a celebrity. And that she was with him. In retrospect, Viviana had made it crystal clear that not only was she not with him, but she couldn’t bear to be at his side. Somewhere in the short time between her movie-star entrance and equally dramatic exit, she’d confirmed that the individual she was most angry with and most determined to shun was him.
Jax was furious when she stormed out of the ballroom and shanghaied a cab. Calling for his car at the valet stand, he was determined to chase her down. The only thing that sliced at his fury was Mick O’Reilly’s stricken expression. The usually ebullient, outgoing cop had turned on Jax, his expression a mix of pain and frustration.
“Christ, man. What did you do to her?”
With an effort, Jax managed to respond reasonably civilly. “What the hell do you mean by that, Detective O’Reilly?”
Mick shook his head, the anguish in his voice was apparent. “Dammit, Jax, in all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen Vivi cry. Not once.” His expression crumbled, and he put up his hands in defeat. “But, dammit, when she got in that fuckin’ cab tonight, tears were streaming down her face.” As if he still couldn’t believe it, Mick appealed to Jax, his voice thick with distress. “Do you know what she said to me, Jax? Out of nowhere, she said that she hated her dress. Said the least I coulda done when I picked her up was tell her that she looked like a freak.”
***
Remembering O’Reilly’s pained recounting, Jax forced himself to rethink his curt declaration that it was his car, his house, his rules. Not that they weren’t in his car and they most certainly were going to his condominium. And dammit, they sure as hell were going to play by his rules. But seeing her pale face, rigid jaw, and her hands clamped in tight fists in her lap, he admitted that if ever discretion or at least restraint was called for, it was now. Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled into his garage, then hopped out and rounded his snazzy Romeo. Opening the passenger door with a flourish, he bowed and swept his hand low in front of him. “We’ve arrived, madam.” He chuckled. “For what is sure to be a memorable evening.”
At her stony silence, he reached for her, but she batted his hands away. With an angry snort, she climbed out of the car, shoved past him, and stomped up the steps to his condo. Once inside, without stopping, she sailed across the living room, marching over to the well-stocked bar. Indiscriminately grabbing the nearest bottle, which happened to be an expensive bottle of cognac Jax knew she didn’t like, he came up beside her, wrapped a strong hand around hers, and shook his head. “Uh-uh, tiger. I’ll decide what we are going to drink tonight. And you’ll be glad to know that I will choose one of your favorites. After all, tonight is special. I wouldn’t want to ruin it with sub-par alcohol.”
He didn’t try to stop her when she headed for the patio. It was where he would have directed her if she hadn’t made a beeline for the sliding glass doors and laddered staircase to the rooftop courtyard. His extraordinary patio was by far his favorite part of the upscale condo. Looking out on the foothills of the Diablo Mountains to the east and the Santa Cruz Mountains to the south and west, from his rooftop sanctuary the network of open creeks, rivers, and waterways that spanned the city was visible. Jax had spent countless nights marveling at the wealth of natural beauty surrounding his adopted home. Even from this distance, he could see where the Santa Clara Valley connected with the South San Francisco Bay, a prescient reminder of why California was a compelling magnet to nature lovers like himself.
Usually Viviana would hang over the edge of the iron railing, oohing and aahing at the riotous beauty surrounding them. But tonight her rigid posture and flinty silence confirmed that it would take more than nature’s extraordinary vistas to break through her heated shell. Jax turned to the Amazon Echo speaker on the counter and commanded, “Alexa, play Chris Botti.” Instantly the haunting notes of the trumpet master’s The Very Thought of You, one of Viviana’s favorite songs, stole across the dark night. Humming along with the sultry words, Jax studied the interior of his built-in outdoor refrigerator. He hauled out a mix of exotic cheeses and a variety of fresh fruit and arranged them in a colorful array on a platter. Adding a bowl of mixed nuts and a mix of crackers from the concealed pantry, he placed the spread on the table.
Looking over her shoulder, Viviana glared at the food, then at him. Her voice was curt, laced with pent-up anger. “What are you doing, Jax?”
He shrugged and continued studying the various bottles of wine in the elaborate wine cellar next to the refrigerator. Without looking at her, he responded nonchalantly, “I’m looking for the best wine for the circumstances.”
She snapped angrily, “What circumstances? I’m not hungry, and as I clearly told you before, I want to go home.”
Ignoring her fuming assertion, he answered her question. “The circumstance we find ourselves in, Viviana.” Choosing a bottle of Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc from the Marlborough region that he knew was one of her favorites, he held her gaze while expertly uncorking the wine. Placing two long-stemmed glasses on the table next to the platter of food, he reached for the elaborate remote on the cabinet and hit one of the buttons. Seconds later the bubbling water in the Jacuzzi J-245 in the corner of the terrazzo-covered expanse surged to life. Smiling at her Jax said, “To be more specific, my prickly princess, the circumstances we seem to find ourselves in far too often. And to answer your question as to what I am doing, that’s easy. I’m seducing you.”
At her shocked gasp, he narrowed his eyes further and moved within a couple of feet of her. With a casual nod at her dress, he said, “In order for me to do that, you will need to take off that outrageous dress.”
Her chin flared up in the air and she spat out, “And what if I won’t?”
He shrugged and said with a grin, “We both know the answer to that question, Sergeant Moreau.”
Clearly struggling to control her emotions, Viviana pressed her lips together. After a long moment, her angry expression morphed into a sneer. Reaching up, she unceremoniously stripped off the minuscule dress and kicked it across the patio. Standing up straight, her lush body bare except for the scrap of lace shielding her mons, she glared at him, her eyes flashing ominously. She held his gaze for a moment, then bent over and kicked off one scandalous high heel and then the other. Still glaring at him, she ripped at her thong and tossed the silky confection on top of the discarded shoes, then turned her back on him. Yanking at the clasps restraining her hair and piled on top of her head, she released the flood of golden curls and climbed into the churning water. Watching her slide into the steaming water, Jax was sure that she’d intended to make her disrobing as unenticing as possible. Unfortunately, given Viviana’s extraordinary body, unenticing wasn’t possible. If anything, her hostility and reckless abandonment of her outrageous attire only served to exacerbate his teeming lust.
Waiting until she settled in the bubbling water, Jax rose to his feet. Pinning her with a sexy grin, he said pleasantly, “Thank you, my glorious princess. I presume turnabout is fair play?” At her indifferent shrug, he chuckled, then refusing to let her look away, he began to loosen the buttons on his silk shirt. When it was fully open, he yanked the shirttails out of his creased trousers and shrugged it off, letting it slip to the floor. Winking at her, he flexed his broad shoulders and muscular arms and tightened his washboard abs, gratified at her startled gasp. Kicking off his boots, he rose up on his toes, as if preparing to fight, then slowly began to unbuckle his belt. Stripping it from the belt loops, he let it hang suggestively at his side for a long moment, then tossed it with a snap onto the tabletop. Without relinquishing her gaze, he released the clasp on his trousers and eased the zipper down. Sliding the pants over his slim hips and powerful thighs, he let them sink to the floor, then stepped out of them and stood naked before her.
Seeing her wide-eyed surprise at his impressively aroused staff and the fact that he had gone commando under his expensive garb, he quirked an amused brow. “You think you’re the only one who plays seductive games with herself, sweetheart? What would you have wanted me to wear?”
She flushed a rosy pink, then tossed her head and said with a dismissive shrug, “Well, at least I wore a thong.”
His eyes dancing with laughter, he turned his striking backside to her and reached for the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. He filled the wine glasses with the exotic wine and handed one to her. As he slipped into the bubbling water beside her, she seemed to remember her pique. Glancing at the glass of wine, she scoffed disparagingly. “I thought you were going to fuck my virgin ass tonight? Instead we’re going to have a picnic in your hot tub?”
Jax clicked his glass against hers, then took a hearty sip of the complex wine. Savoring it in his mouth for a moment, he nodded in approval. Reaching for her glass, he put it beside his on the edge of the tub and allowed his smile to fade. Closing in on her, he was gratified by her sharp intake of air. “In answer to your provocative question, my haughty wench, I’ve decided to save that salacious treat for another time. A time when I’m not as angry with you as I am.” He added with a thoughtful frown, “And when you don’t look as pitiful as you do tonight.”
She reared up in anger and kicked away from him. He caught her arm and yanked her up next to him. “Uh-uh, Viviana, tonight you don’t get to run. Even your exceptionably bad behavior won’t keep me away.”
Tipping up her chin, he stared into the indigo abyss of her startling eyes. To his surprise, rather than rage, he saw moisture looming in them. Confirming her distress, she burst into tears. Truly stunned at the sobs wracking her fragile frame, Jax pulled her shaking body up next to his. After several moments of listening to her tortured sobs as he held her close, rubbing her back, and murmuring comforting words, he settled her back against the edge of the tub. Holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he forced her to meet his intense gaze. Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around her and said with a heartfelt sigh, “Viviana, my darling girl, will you please tell me what the hell is going on with you?”