CHAPTER TEN

Still Seven Days to Deadline

 

 

“Rode hard and put away wet.” That’s how the old saying goes about a woman used for a man’s pleasure. I can relate. Dammit.

Wasn’t it just a few minutes ago I felt so good, cocooned in his arms?

The sheet’s still tucked up under my chin as I sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wondering what just happened.

He devours me like a ravenous tiger, then leaves my carcass behind with not even a kiss goodbye?

Hell, he didn’t even say goodbye.

That must be some emergency meeting.

For about two seconds, I consider dressing and following Jack back out to the plant. But I wouldn’t be allowed into the meeting. Depending on how big an emergency it is, a journalist is probably the last person they’d want hearing all the details. I’ll just have to wait until I go to work tonight and see what I can find out.

No use sitting and stewing about it right now. Time to get some sleep, if I can. I fluff my pillow and lie back down, taking the sheet with me. And proceed to toss and turn a few times. Reminds me of my dog, seeking a comfortable place to plant.

I can’t. My mind won’t shut off, reliving what we just shared. Hot and hard, like a summer squall, leaving me wrung out and sated. Like I’d craved since the pool party. I bet I could have slept just fine if he’d been beside me here in this torture device of a bed.

My stomach rumbles, demanding attention. I flop over on my back and stare at the ceiling. A quick calculation tells me it’s been nearly twelve hours since I last ate. Giving up on sleep, I climb out of bed, pull on yesterday’s clothes, and head over to the diner.

Breakfast. Another pleasure we didn’t get to share this morning.

“Mornin’,” Crystal says, holding a coffee pot in her hand. “Wondered where you were. Juice?”

I start to nod, but stop myself at the last minute on the way to our usual table. “Coffee. I’d like some coffee this morning, please.”

She grins and follows me to flip over the white china mug already set on the table, then pours steamy goodness from her pot. “Jack not joining you today?”

“No.”

Her nod is somber, though a smile flits around her lips. “Full breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs, pancakes and syrup, hash browns, and a double side of bacon.”

The pen races along her order pad. “Cheese on those eggs?”

“Why not?”

“Cheddar or Swiss?” Her chuckle sounds like a dare.

“Both.”

She laughs out loud at that one and stuffs her pen into the messy bun on top of her head. “Comin’ right up.”

A girl’s entitled to some comfort, and I’ll take mine over hot cakes, thank you very much, Mr. DePaul. Humph.

His name whispers through me, gentle, caressing. Who knew a week ago that this quiet, determined man would storm into my life and snag my interest? He was supposed to be a one-night fling. And if we hadn’t been interrupted by my brother that first night, that’s all Jack DePaul would have been—a one-and-done. We’re both carrying other responsibilities.

Our timing is for shit.

“You look like you just swallowed a sour cherry pit.” Crystal sets a plate in front of me and refills my mug. “Somethin’ happen to your partner?”

“Nope. I’m sure you’ll see him later.”

“I’m surprised he’s not here now. You two look good together.”

I can feel my neck heating up as I run a pat of butter around the bottom hotcake in my stack. “We’re not a couple.”

Crystal gives me a mocking side glance. “Okay.”

“We just work together.”

“Honey, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

That makes me stop slathering the next pancake to take a closer look at her. “He’s usually snarling at me. Or poking fun.”

“Oh, girl, please. You and I both know that dog won’t hunt.” She’s standing with a hip protruding, weight on one leg, the coffee pot resting on the table. “Don’t be a cliché.”

Well hell’s own bells. Crystal, fuzzy bleach blonde hair in a messy bun sporting a pencil, a wad of gum in her mouth, chipped blue polish on her fingernails, and nurses’ issue white platform mules on her feet, is telling me not to be cliché? “You wanna run that past me again, Crystal?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Do you like him?”

“Sure. He’s my boss.”

An indelicate snort is her reply. “Who’re you foolin’? You like him. You send him little looks when you think he can’t see. You listen to him when he tells you what would be best for you to order. He always waits to sit until you’re seated. Y’all pass things to each other so your fingers can touch. Of course you like him. Don’t even try to deny it.”

My nose twitches in irritation, and my mouth sets. “We’ve only known each other a week. I don’t know what I think of him.”

And that’s a downright lie. I’ve been attracted to him from the first. And every day that goes by, I like him a little more. Every thing I find out about him makes me more interested in knowing more. After this morning? When we let our guard down and really gave in to each other? Yeah. I like the man. More than I should, considering how long I’ve known him. For all I know, he could be engaged to someone back home. Or even married, for all I know. Damn, he could have a kid or two. Anxiety squeezes the breath out of my lungs.

“Don’t take too long to work it out,” Crystal advises. “How much longer will he be here?”

I attack my eggs, chopping the salt and pepper into them with a vengeance. “Doesn’t matter. Neither of us is making long-term plans.”

“Why not? The man is prime beef.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

“And unless I miss my mark, he’s sweet on you.”

“That I doubt. There’s attraction, maybe, but that’s all.”

“Push it. What’ve ya got to lose?”

I shrug. She probably wasn’t left alone without a backward glance after sex this morning.

An elderly couple comes in and waves at Crystal, who turns to intercept them.

“Just give it some thought. You’ve got all the right equipment, honey. Go for it.” With that, she grins at me one last time and goes to seat the new arrivals. When Crystal takes their order, they move to adjacent sides of the little square table so they can hold hands down beside their chairs.

I can feel the memory of Jack’s hands entwined with mine as he plumbed my depths this morning. Him gripping with his strong fingers, as though he couldn’t get close enough to me or stamp his hold on me tight enough. And I’d seized his right back, as though I could capture the moment and the feelings that he caused to surge through me.

In this second, I know that we aren’t finished with each other. That there’s something between us, growing, digging some roots, seeking nourishment. I just have to decide how badly I want it. How hard I’m willing to work for it.

There’s a lot of ground to cover in the next week or so. Things to find out about each other, beginning with what his feelings are. But the timing’s bad. We need to get through this construction job, the grapefruit harvest, so much. I have no business thinking this far ahead, seeing and considering possibilities instead of just enjoying the here and now. Damn Crystal for forcing my mind’s eye in that direction.

I could very definitely be on a collision course with heartbreak.

 

 

“Jack, I know you. When you get this quiet, somebody’s got hell to pay,” Frank says, stalking the mile and a half from the meeting back to the pumphouse. “Go back to the hotel. Get some sleep. Come back fresh.”

My lips curl into a snarl. “Not sleepy. Gonna stop in and watch the security tapes. How close are we to finishing the build in the well?”

“Pretty close. Tomorrow, probably. We’ll get as far as we can today, and the night crew can wrap things up. We should be ready over the weekend for a test.”

I grunt my understanding and fling open the door to the Security building. “After I finish here, I’ll come join you at the pumphouse. I want to talk to the crew at lunch.”

“I’ll pass the word.”

After we pass through the scanner, Frank moves on his way to the construction site, while I veer off upstairs to the Security offices. A uniformed man sits behind a barricade like a bank teller’s window.

I point to my badge. “Hi. I’m Jack DePaul with AI. I’d like to see security tapes from nights we’ve had pilfering down on the construction site.”

The officer makes a call, and a uniformed woman comes to get me. “This way, please, Mr. DePaul,” she says, walking me down a hall to a small conference room with a smart board. She consults a list, then queues up a video. There’s nothing much to see, until we get to the view of Nick’s tool belt outside the Porta-Potties. One minute the toolbelt is there, resting on the ground, leaning against the portable, and the next, it’s sliding away to the side, until it disappears.

“Stop the video,” I order. “Show that again, slower.”

She does as I ask.

“I don’t get it. Has the video been altered?”

“No, sir. We’ve watched it many times, but nobody’s made any changes.” Big brown eyes eat up half her face, dark hair dragged back into a clip.

“Can you explain it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s like magic. We haven’t been able to figure it out.”

“It’s obviously someone who knows the site and where the cameras are. I don’t see hands or even a shadow.”

One of her shoulders rides up towards her ear in a lopsided shrug. “We’ve upped our patrol, and there hasn’t been another incident.”

I scrub a hand down my face. “Okay, let me see it again. Slow.”

 

 

After the lunch break and having a good pep talk with the day shift, a wall of tired slams into me. My head’s nodding as I tear away from the parking lot and the drive to the hotel. Thank goodness there was food in the little fridge. That should tide me over until tonight, when I’ll stop at the diner for a full meal before going back out to the site.

Coming down the hall from the elevator, my feet want to carry me to Jilly’s door. If I weren’t one hundred percent positive I’d wake her up, I’d strip off my clothes, fall into bed with her, and bury my nose in her neck to sleep.

Who’m I kidding? I’d strip and fall into bed with her, but it’s not her neck I’d be burying myself into. My randy dick doesn’t seem to care how bone-weary I am right now. It wants to get wet, and not in a solitary shower.

By sheer force of will, I open my own door and shove inside the room. Stripping clothes as I cross to the bed, I’m naked when I pull back the covers and crash belly-first. My muscles melt into the crisp sheets. Man, I haven’t felt this relaxed in ages.

And that’s a big surprise. It’s been a long, hectic day, with plenty of stress. Through it all, I remembered turquoise eyes, softening in response to the ways I touched her. The squeal of tools in the distance reminded me of her little mews when I discovered a particularly sensitive spot along her collar bone. I’d run my hand along a weld and remember the silky skin of her breasts and the way her nipples crinkled into sharp points when I teased them with my tongue.

Recalling all that hardens my body to steel. I flex my hips and groan, imagining her warmth encasing my throbbing shaft. There’s enough friction from the sheets that I could go all the way, if I wanted to sleep in stickiness like a teenager again. I roll out of bed for a towel, then lie on my back when I return, cock fisted. I squeeze hard, forcing liquid from the tip to help lubricate.

Pretending it’s her hand, I stroke, motions slow, savoring the build-up of sensations zipping through me. My free hand cups my balls, gently rolling them against each other.

It wasn’t but a few hours ago that Jilly and I were sharing this. The woman was magnificent. In the parking lot, she showed me she could keep up, and she didn’t disappoint. I was out of my mind with lust for her, and she met me every step of the way. Her gropes were just as fevered as mine, her kisses as demanding. She even pulled my hair the way I pulled hers, all wrapped around my fist. Every lunge of my hard body was absorbed into her pillowed one, taking as much as I had to give.

In the here and now, I squeeze my fist tighter around my cock and pick up the speed.

Was it so glorious this morning just because it was our first time? The excitement of something new? Something tells me that she wanted it as bad as I did, and that it would be that good the next time.

Will there be a next time? My fist slows, considering. Fucking Jilly was one of the more stupid things I’ve done in a while. Oh, not the fucking. The timing. I intended to wait until the job was done. Take the safe and sane route.

But the floral smell of her hair, her skin that glows like sunshine, and tastes like home was too much for me to resist. I had to have her.

And now that I’ve had her, instead of getting the urge out of my system, it’s set its burrs in me, demanding I take more.

My cock thickens as I stroke, from the base, to the tip, around the head, and back down.

Jilly.

I dream of her sucking my girth into her gorgeous mouth, and my heartbeat picks up. My backside tightens, and I thrust into my hand like I’m pumping into her, burying my rigid flesh into her heat.

There’s enough lube that I can slide my palm over the engorged tip with each stroke. It feels good, but after being inside Jilly’s body, this is a poor substitute. Like drinking light beer—it quenches the thirst, but doesn’t satisfy.

My body seizes, and cum races from my balls. Euphoria hits, and I explode, inside and out. White strings fly toward my face, spattering my chest, leaving me wishing the ropes were glistening on Jilly’s beautiful round breasts. That thought sends impulses through my nervous system again, keeping me hard. I rub cum all over my cock, then begin jacking again. I pull hard and fast, conjuring up Jilly’s naked form with all its delectable curves. My balls take a beating, too, as I manipulate them mercilessly, just to the point of pain. The head of my cock is dark purple, filled with blood, straining toward climax. It hits so hard I double up, cum geysering out of my body in thick pulses.

Panting, I lie back and reach for the towel to clean myself off.

Yeah. I want more Jilly Vickers. I need her in my bed. I want to hold her when we fall asleep in each other’s arms. But I need to figure out how to do it without further compromising my project. Forcing myself to wait another week would be the smart idea. And I’m usually smart about my women. But something happened between us that’s not usual for me. I’m not sure what that something is, and I’m not prepared to analyze it.

One thing’s for sure, though. It’s not going to be so easy to keep Jilly compartmentalized.