Текст книги "Then Came You"

Автор книги: Jill Shalvis

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Nine

They didn’t speak much on the drive back to Belle Haven. The lot was dark and empty when they pulled in. Emily grabbed her purse and slid from the truck almost before Wyatt even stopped, needing to get out of his sexy air space ASAP.

But as chill as he was, the guy could move like lightning when he wanted. And apparently he wanted, because he caught up with her in the blink of an eye.

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes,” he said firmly, setting a big hand on the small of her back, vigilantly taking in their surroundings as they moved. “I do. There’s been some break-ins this year. Not here, but at other animal centers, addicts looking for drugs. I’m not taking chances with you.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” At her car door, she hesitated. If this had been a real date, she’d be wondering if there was going to be a good-night kiss. But this wasn’t a real date. “And thanks for dinner,” she said.

He dipped down a little to see into her eyes. “We good?”

Oh, great, and now he felt sorry for her. “Yep.” She added a super enthusiastic nod. “We’re good. We’re great. We’re super-duper.” She bit her tongue to shut herself up, but he was already frowning.

“You’re toasted,” he said.

“What? No, of course not. I only had two beers.” Or was it three? “Okay, maybe I’m half toasted. I’ll call my sister for a ride.”

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and turned back to his truck.

“Hey. Hey,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder to slow him down. “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving you home.” He hustled her back up into the truck’s passenger’s seat.

“I can’t ask you to—”

“You didn’t ask.” He shut the door on her next protest and walked around the hood to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel and turned to her, an arm up along the back of their seats. His other hand came up and he stroked the worry lines between her brows. “Don’t worry about the car, Emily. I’ll get it to you.”

She nodded. She didn’t trust her voice. He was sitting there, still wearing his puppy and kitty tie. And those glasses that made her want to steam them up. The combination should’ve made him look utterly ridiculous, but it didn’t. Instead, it gave the big, leanly muscled, sexy-as-hell guy an unexpected softness, and she wanted to kiss him. The kind of kiss where you tasted each other for a good long time, where you tried not to bite but maybe you bit a little anyway.

“You’re staring at me,” he said.

“Am not.”

She could practically hear him smile. Good Lord, she was out of control. He was over there being all Captain Platonic, and she wanted to rip that tie off and use it to bind him to her bed.

It was the beer, she decided. It had awoken her inner slut. He had one hand up on the headrest behind her, the other on the steering wheel, his thumb idly strumming back and forth.

She could remember that thumb doing the same over her nipple. “This is never going to work.”

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Get a grip. The night was dark around them, pitch-black in a way that she never really got to see in Los Angeles with all its city lights.

Here, there were no lights at all, nothing but stars littered like diamonds across a blanket of black velvet. It took her breath away. “It’s really beautiful here.”

“You sound surprised.”

She turned to him and felt herself brush up against the inside of his forearm where it rested behind her. It was shockingly like being in his arms. She felt his fingers brush her bare arm and she shivered. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Waiting for you to tell me where you live.”

Oh. Right. “I live off Highway 29, between Rancher’s Way and Fisher Creek Road.”

“I own some land out that way,” he said, turning the truck’s engine over and pulling out of the lot. “Ten acres.”

“You live there?” she asked, wondering if they were neighbors. “With your sisters?”

“No, the land is just mine. I’m going to build a place on it eventually.” He glanced at her. “Just out of morbid curiosity, what did you think I was doing back there?”

“Trying to turn me on.”

He smiled. “I don’t have to try.”

Damn, he was right about that. In fact, he was doing it right now. She squirmed a little, and his smile turned to a grin, which made it easier to ignore him for the rest of the drive home.

The house she and Sara rented was on the end of a short cul-de-sac that backed up to at least thirty acres of wilderness. There were a few other properties scattered throughout the area, but not many. The closest house was fifty yards in one direction, and twice that in the other. She’d not met a single neighbor.

Her house was dark. It was karaoke night at the local bar, and Sara loved karaoke. She wouldn’t be home for hours. “You do realize that I totally blame you,” she said, breaking the silence.

“For?”

“Sitting there wearing a goofy-ass tie, driving like you do everything else, which is so stupid sexy I can’t think.”

He swiveled his amused gaze her way. “Anything else?”

She blew out a breath. “Fine. Mock me. Just . . . keep your hands to yourself.”

He lifted them in surrender.

“And your mouth.”

Said mouth quirked, and he mimed zipping it closed.

God, she was out. Of. Control. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath. “I’m going in now.”

She didn’t go in.

“This is so ridiculous,” she finally whispered.

She felt his fingers grip hers. He lowered her hands from her face. “It’s fine,” he said. “You don’t want anything to happen, nothing’s going to happen.”

She stared at him. “It’s not?”

“Well, not unless you want it to, and then instigate things in a big way.”

She stared at him, and then dropped her head back to stare at the roof of the truck instead of into his mesmerizing eyes. “Well that’s just great.”

“You changed your mind. You want something to happen,” he said, sounding like maybe he was smiling again. “You’re the one who made the rules, sweetness.”

“I know, but . . .” She sank in her seat a little bit and sighed. “It’s just that I’ve never really mastered being the instigator in the man department when I don’t know how that instigation will be received.”

There was a horrifyingly long beat of silence, and she sunk in her seat a little lower, wishing she could poof, vanish.

“The problem isn’t whether I’m attracted to you,” he finally said. “But this isn’t about attraction.”

Her head came up, both startled and relieved to hear him admit the attraction was mutual. “It’s not?”

“No,” he said. “You have a grand plan. I’m not on it.”

“And I’m not on yours,” she said, grasping at straws. “Right?”

“Right.”

She ignored the little stab of disappointment. “Right.” Nodding, she stared at him in the ambient light. So strong, inside and out. He was so much more than she’d known on that long ago night.

“Emily,” he said, his tone low. A soft warning.

“I know.” She looked at his mouth again. And his Adam’s apple. And his throat. And his shoulders, covered by his shirt. Which didn’t matter because she knew what he looked like without that shirt. “It’s just that I hadn’t had an orgasm in forever,” she blurted out.

“What?”

“That night. I hadn’t had an orgasm in six months.” She hesitated. “Or since,” she whispered, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. Shut me up. I’m begging you.”

He laughed, that low, sexy sound that never failed to make her nipples hard. He slid his hands to her arms and gently squeezed. “How about we just say good night.”

“And pretend this conversation didn’t happen?” she asked hopefully.

He gave a slow shake of his head, eyes flashing good humor. “Afraid I can’t make that promise. This conversation was good for me.”

“Okay, now I’m really going in.” She thrust out her hand. “Good night.”

Still looking vastly amused, he took her hand. His was warm, callused. Big. She held it for a moment too long, and then, oh God and then there was more eye contact. Nobody did eye contact better than Wyatt Stone.

“I like having you at Belle Haven,” he said. “I hope you get a lot out of this year, Emily.”

She stared at his square jaw, at his dark, thick eyelashes that were totally not fair and so wasted on a man, and then . . . and then somehow she tugged on his hand a little, to kiss his cheek.

Except she missed his cheek and got his mouth instead, dislodging his glasses, which fell between the car door and the seat.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured, but didn’t move away.

His hands went to her arms. “Emily.”

Maybe it was the way he squinted just a little, maybe it was the gruff warning in his voice, but she quivered again. Big-time. As if he felt it, he tightened his grip on her arms, then his hands glided up into her hair on either side of her head as he roughly whispered her name.

That was when she lost her tenuous hold on her sanity, reaching for him at the same time he tugged. She landed in his lap, straddling him. “Hi,” she said against his lips. “I’m instigating.

“Jesus.” Wyatt captured her wrists, wrapping his arms– and hers—behind her back. But this only served to press their torsos together, and she moaned helplessly at the contact.

So did he. And then he kissed her hard and long, until they were breathing wildly, breaking off only to stare at her in the ambient light of the dash.

She did her best to look like something he had to have.

“We can’t do this,” he said firmly, voice raspy like he wasn’t buying his own words. “It’s not Reno. Now you work under me. There could be a lawsuit—”

“I doubt Dell’s going to sue me for having sex with you.”

“Smart-ass.” He was still holding her wrists pinned behind her back. She could feel him hard and ready beneath her. Definitely, he wasn’t buying what he was saying.

“And I couldn’t sue,” she said. “Because this is consensual.”

He blew out a breath.

“Oh my God.” She felt herself freeze in horror. “Wyatt, say it’s consensual.”

“Killing me,” he said on a groan, dropping his forehead to hers.

“Say it!”

He huffed out a laugh, which was just about the best aphrodisiac she’d ever heard. “You’re crazy,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “But crazy hot, right?”

“Hot as hell.” Releasing her wrists, he cupped her face and stared at her for a good long beat. “What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Tell me you’re sober,” he demanded.

“I’m sober.”

“All the way sober?”

“Yes!”

“What about that guy?” he asked. “Is he still the silent boyfriend, like the K in knight? Like the kind that isn’t really a boyfriend at all but a guy you use as a shield to hold off the other guys?”

She felt herself flush. He was totally on to her. “Yes,” she whispered.

He held her still another moment, then groaned. “Killing me,” he said again, but he finally moved, sliding his hands beneath her sweater. “Last chance,” he said gruffly, his fingers sliding north. “Last chance to stop me.”

She reached down and hit a lever, and his seat flew back.

Flat on his back, Wyatt laughed, and then her shirt was gone, over her head, gone and his hand was on her jaw, turning her where he wanted her, which was close, and finally.

Finally.

They were heading in the right direction. She pulled his shirt from his jeans and shoved it up, revealing the mouthwatering torso she’d been dreaming about. She ran her fingertips over his abs counting ridges of muscles, loving how they quivered beneath her touch. “Six,” she whispered, and reached for his belt buckle.

This tore some more colorful swearing from Wyatt, and she bent low, nipping his lower lip. “Are you going to talk all the way through this?” she asked.

He choked out a laugh. “I might.”

“Good,” she said, trembling as she remembered last time. Not only had he talked, uttering rough, erotic nothings in her ear, he’d made her to do it, too.

And she liked it.

One hand in her hair, he seared his mouth to hers, hard and fast, his tongue demanding entrance. When she parted her lips, a low growl sounded in the back of his throat. Her bra went the same direction as her shirt, and then he filled his hands with her breasts.

Still straddling him, her head fell back and she oscillated her hips. Her butt hit the horn, startling the crap out of her as it went off, loudly.

Wyatt laughed again. Grinning against her, he pulled her down over him, his hands going to her ass. His kiss was heady stuff, all deep and hot and wet as they went at each other. In Reno, they’d been perfect strangers, and that’d been hotter than she could have imagined.

This time, knowing him now, was even better. It was like coming home.

“Kick off your shoes,” he said against her mouth.

She rushed to do that while he busied himself peeling her jeans to her thighs. “Lift up, Em.”

Bossy as hell, just like last time, and damn. It still turned her on. He lent his hands to the cause, tugging the jeans the rest of the way off, leaving her in just a little itty-bitty neon green bikini panty. “Pretty,” he said, hooking his thumbs in the sides. “I’ll owe you.”

And then he tore them off.

She just about had an orgasm at that.

But now she was completely naked and he was wearing way too many clothes, especially since hers were littered around them. She tugged at his shirt and he pulled away to yank it over his head.

She got less than a second to admire his naked chest before he jackknifed up with a ripple of his gorgeous abs so that his tongue could do things to her nipples that should probably be illegal.

She couldn’t stop the helpless moan that escaped her mouth, though the sound seemed to trigger something inside Wyatt because the next thing she knew, he was swearing again, fighting one of the pockets of his cargo pants for his wallet.

When he produced a condom, she nearly sobbed in relief.

Then he was hauling her up his body.

From working with him, she knew something unequivocal. He handled an animal, any animal, with cool, calm, gentle-but-firm care. Always. In fact, she’d discovered she could watch him for hours, and he never failed to awe and amaze her. No matter if an animal was furious in its pain, or simply terrified, Wyatt had an unmistakably authoritative way of holding himself that made every four-legged creature innately trust him.

He had the same talent with two-legged creatures as well, even flat on his back in the pitch dark of his truck.

She hugged her knees to either side of his hips and he groaned in her ear at the contact. The sound of it, rough and ragged, was foreplay in its own right.

Hearing him rip open the condom was more foreplay. The last time she’d slept with him all the little nerve endings in her body had stood up, done the wave, marched around the room, and then sung the “Hallelujah” chorus.

She could feel that starting to happen again.

By the time he gripped her by the waist and drove himself all the way inside her, she was more than halfway gone. And if his ragged breathing was any indication, so was he.

“Oh fuck, Emily,” he growled, head back, eyes heavy-lidded, throat exposed, enticing her to lean down and lick him there. “So good.” He wrapped one arm low around her back, the other braced on the steering wheel behind her for support as he thrust up hard and deep inside her.

The horn sounded again, tugging a muffled laugh from him. Muffled because his face was buried in her neck now as they moved together in a rhythm that felt all the more intimate for the close proximity, and she supposed, the added danger of possibly getting discovered.

The pleasure built hard and fast, in thick layers. She couldn’t stop herself from whispering his name in need, in desire, in hunger.

His throat worked as his eyes slid shut. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling with each long exhale. She whispered his name again and he opened his eyes, lifting his head to watch her body engulf his.

“God, Wyatt.”

“Just Wyatt’ll do,” he said, and when she let out a breathless laugh, he fisted a hand in her hair, bringing her eyes and mouth to his.

“Good?” he murmured, lips to hers.

“So good,” she managed. “More, please.”

He thrust into her with just enough force to rock her world. “Ask like that and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Riding his movements, arching into him, she was peaking when the horn went off again. “Dammit!”

He snorted but patiently worked her up again, nothing stopping him this time, not the obnoxious blast of the horn, nor the lack of space, nor the fact that she bumped their noses together trying to kiss him.

He was a man on task, and as she already knew, he was good on task. It took only a few more masterful strokes for him to bring her back to the edge of sanity and then beyond, and as she came, clenching tight around him, she took him right over that edge along with her.

Hot and fast and dirty.

And amazing.

And without a doubt, the most erotic experience of her life.

Ten

Wyatt could hear himself still panting for breath when Emily finally lifted her face from where she’d plastered it to his throat.

He tried to see her expression but she was a blur. Reaching down, he searched for and found his glasses, shoving them on. Oh yeah, he thought as his fuzzy world came into sharp focus, revealing the gorgeously tousled woman astride him.

She was utterly beautiful.

And utterly perplexed.

An unexpected surge of affection hit him like a tidal wave, and he stroked her hair from her damp forehead and pressed his lips to her temple.

“What was that?” she demanded, voice hoarse.

“Great sex.”

“Oh my God.” She shifted with a wince. “There’s a gearshift pressing against my ass.”

He found a laugh. He was still buried deep inside her and the movement caused her to shudder. Not from cold, he knew. The aftershocks of great sex.

“I’m not sure this is funny,” she said.

He slid his hands up her warm torso.

“Wyatt—” She inhaled a sharply drawn breath when his thumbs gently grazed the underside of her breasts. Her bare skin was unbelievably soft under his touch, and he bit back a groan at the feel of it on his fingers.

“I think you’re magic,” she said.

He laughed again and she climbed off his lap, treating him to a fantastic view of her bare ass as she crawled back into her seat. There she snatched his shirt and tugged it over her head before she curled up and covered her face with her hands. “I really did totally instigate this.”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “I loved it.”

“Oh my God. I took advantage of you.”

“Uh-huh. It was hot.”

“I had to talk you into it,” she reminded him. “You were over there doing your Captain Platonic impression and I . . . I—” She covered her face and moaned miserably.

Leaning over her, he pulled her hands away from her face and waited until she lifted her gaze to his. “You’re too sexy,” she whispered. “You’ve really got to knock that off. I mean it, Wyatt.”

He shook his head on a smile. “You’re the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, and I’ve met lots of them. Hell, I live with the queen and queen-in-waiting of all confusing women.”

“You think you’re confused,” she said, sagging back. “Imagine how confused it is inside my head.” She reached for her panties, pulling them up one leg before apparently remembering he’d torn them. With a noise of frustration, she tossed them aside and went for her jeans, shoving her legs in, wriggling as she pulled them up.

Commando.

Sexiest thing he’d seen. Well, maybe the second sexiest thing, the first being the way she’d moved over him, her eyes on his as she’d ridden him—

“Okay, that was absolutely our last time,” she said. “I don’t care how much your puppy and kitten tie pulls me in.” She paused. “I’m going to resist you.”

“Maybe you should put it in writing,” he said.

“I realize you’re mocking me, but that’s actually a good idea.” She pulled down the visor mirror and looked at herself. Her hair was wild, her eyes still a little dazed, and she was definitely wearing an I’ve-just-had-an-orgasm look as she groaned. She shoved on her shoes and opened the door.

He caught up with her on the sidewalk just as she stopped short. “What?” he asked.

“Hear that?”

He listened. The nights in Sunshine weren’t quiet. Crickets chirped. Wind rustled through the trees. From a long way off they could hear the sounds of the river, and the very occasional car.

And the unmistakable howl of a coyote.

Emily hugged herself. “Never mind, I hear weird noises out here, I’m not used to the country.” She moved to her door. “This isn’t necessary,” she said as he followed.

Not bothering to disagree, he took her keys from her fingers, unlocked her door for her, and held it open.

She stepped inside and turned back to him. “We’ve got to work on this.”

“We?”

She sighed. “You’re not taking me seriously.”

His smile faded and he stroked a stray strand of hair along her temple, tucking it behind her ear, wondering what it would be like if they were even halfway suited for each other.

Pretty fucking great, he figured. “On the contrary,” he finally said quietly. “I’m taking you very seriously.”

The weekend was quiet. Emily woke up Saturday morning to Q-Tip sitting on her chest, staring into her face.

“Meow.”

This translated to feed me, feed me now.

Knowing from experience that resistance was futile, Emily stumbled out of bed to feed the terminally hungry cat.

On her way to the kitchen, she glanced out the front window and saw her car in the driveway.

Wyatt, of course. She had a text from him telling her where he’d hidden her keys. When she went out to retrieve them, she found on her top step a to-go mug of hot coffee and several donuts from the bakery in town.

Which was almost more of a turn-on than his laugh.

She and Sara spent the weekend settling in, making the place theirs by painting their rooms. Sara went for a bold purple, Emily a muted, warm sea green.

On Sunday night, she called her dad to check in.

“How’s Idaho?” he asked. Same question he’d asked last week.

Not wanting to worry him, she gave him the same answer. “Good,” she said. “Two weeks down. How’re you doing? You eating okay? Did you get the bills paid on time?”

“Two weeks down?” he repeated, ignoring her other questions. “Honey, don’t tell me you’re clock watching.”

No, she was calendar watching.

“You need to enjoy this time in the wild, wild west,” he said. “Go date a cowboy or ride a horse or something. Do what makes you happy.”

This had been his life philosophy. He’d spent most of his career working as a vet at the homeless shelters. He had a drive to help, and she loved that about him, but at the same time, it had made it almost impossible for him to support his family. There were still medical bills from her mom to be paid, and he was making little to no headway there at all. “I’m too busy at work for that, Dad. Did you look at the job apps I e-mailed you? There’re a few openings that you’re perfect for.”

“I like my job at the SPCA.”

“But it hardly pays,” Emily said.

“Honey, some things are bigger than money. And anyway, I manage just fine.”

She had to bite her tongue. There was no gain to pointing out that he managed just fine because she kicked in for rent and groceries and leftover medical bills whenever and wherever she could—after feeding and housing her and Sara, who like Dad, never could quite make ends meet. “You’re eating?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m eating,” he said. “Now will you go do something fun? Try it, you might like it.”

She thought of what she’d done with Wyatt in his truck, how uninhibited and crazy it had been, and felt her pulse kick. She’d already had her fun.

Twice.

“Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, honey. Tell Sara I tried.”

She hung up and turned to Sara. “He tried what?”

“To loosen you up,” Sara said.

Emily blew out her breath and looked at her phone when it rang.

Lilah ran the local doggy day care on the property next to Belle Haven, and as she was close to Dell and the guys, she spent lots of time in the office.

This worked for Emily, as she liked Lilah a lot. “I’m working on a big fund-raiser,” Lilah said when Emily answered the call. “It’s an online auction, with profits going to the local animal rescue shelter.”

“I didn’t know Sunshine had a rescue shelter,” Emily said.

“Yeah, and it’s me. Anyway, everyone from Belle Haven’s donating stuff. Dell’s offered ten free pet checkups. Adam’s offering a free puppy training course, and also S&R classes. Brady’s giving out a one-hour chopper ride.”

Brady was her husband, who was Dell’s brother. He was a pilot for hire, and maintained a helicopter at the small airport across from the animal center, which he often used to fly Dell and Wyatt to the big animal ranch patients.

“And Wyatt?” Emily asked. “What did he donate?”

Lilah was silent for a beat, and Emily cursed her own mouth for revealing her interest.

“Wyatt’s donating a shadow day,” Lilah said. “The highest bidder gets to walk in his shadow all day long at the center. He’s also giving away five home vet visits.”

“Generous,” Emily said, trying to sound not all that interested, also trying not to picture all the single women in the area bidding on him.

He’s not yours . . .

“So,” Lilah said. “You in? How about a night out with the highest bidder?”

“Uh . . .” Emily said.

“Just dinner,” Lilah said.

Sounded harmless enough. “If you really think people will be interested,” she said. “Because let’s face it, the big draw’s going to be the guys of Belle Haven.”

Lilah laughed softly. “I take it you’ve seen the way women react to them.”

“Yes, the Casserole Brigade has been very attentive.”

This cracked Lilah up. “For the most part, the guys don’t even notice,” she said.

“Are you kidding?” Emily asked on a laugh. “Wyatt snags each and every casserole.”

“That’s more because he’s always hungry. And by hungry, I mean his appetite for food,” Lilah said. “He’s actually a little bit shy in the women department.”

Emily couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing.

And in her ear, Lilah chuckled. “Okay, yeah, maybe shy is a bit of a stretch. Wyatt doesn’t really have a shy bone in his body. But he’s not exactly a man ’ho, either. He’s just so damn busy all the time. Poor guy’s got his hands full, what with the crazy growth of the practice these past six months, and trying to take care of his sisters and that big house, and planning the build on his own place. At least he’s finally getting over Caitlin, though he’s still protecting his heart pretty good—not that a man would ever admit to that, and certainly not a man like Wyatt.”

“Who’s Caitlin?”

“Uh . . .” Lilah’s voice suddenly became professional-like. “Hey, I’ve got another call coming in.”

“Okay, but—”

But Lilah was already gone.

By ten o’clock on Monday morning, Wyatt’s ass was dragging. It had been a long weekend rewiring the downstairs bathroom, and an even longer morning. Having been called out to the front desk, his stomach growled like Pavlov’s dog when he saw another casserole dish sitting on the counter.

Gertie hoisted herself to her feet and bounded to Wyatt for some love, leaving only a little slobber on his thigh.

“Rosa Martinez,” Jade said, patting the casserole. “Homemade enchiladas. She left a note that I accidentally on purpose read. She wants to jump your bones.”

“Jump your bones,” Peanut said.

Wyatt pointed at the parrot, and the bird flopped dramatically to Jade’s desk like he’d been shot.

Wyatt turned to Jade. “The note does not say that.”

“It says, and I quote, ‘call me, Dr. Stone, anytime.’” Jade waved it. “In women-speak that means she wants to jump your bones.”

“Women are crazy.”

“True,” she said, not insulted in the least.

Emily came up to the counter holding a file. Wyatt gave her credit, she met his gaze smoothly, as she had all morning. He wasn’t sure if she blushed slightly, or if that was his imagination. One thing she hadn’t done was speak directly to him.

Apparently, they weren’t going to discuss Friday night. Fine by him, as every time he so much as thought about it, how she’d climbed into his lap and rode him like he was a bronco, he got hard.

“I need some copies made,” she said to Jade, and then stopped to eye the casserole. “Another delivery from the Casserole Brigade?” she asked.

“Yep,” Jade said.

“What’s going on?” she asked Wyatt. “Are they auditioning for the role of your next girlfriend?”

Jade cackled.

Peanut cackled.

Wyatt slid both Jade and the parrot a look, but neither appeared at all repentant. “What?” Jade said. “It’s not a bad idea. You deserve a new girlfriend since—”

“Jade.”

“And speaking of girlfriends . . .” She handed him a stack of phone messages. “I almost didn’t give you the first one, but last time I interfered, Dell told me to butt out of your business. So this is me, butting out.”

He looked down at the first message and felt tension grip him. “Caitlin called?”

“Yeah,” Jade said softly, no longer sounding amused. “From Haiti. I told her you were too busy screwing blond triplets in the back, that you’d call when you were done, but it might be awhile seeing as you were a God among men.”

At his side, Emily sucked in a breath.

Wyatt shook his head. “Nice going on staying out of it, Jade.”

She winced with guilt but kept her head high. “She deserved it. And since I’ve already stuck my nose in, let me finish off by saying if you call her back, I’ll . . .” She paused. “I’ll call all the cougars in town and tell them your favorite foods, and that you need some lovin’.”

“Do it,” Wyatt said. “And I’ll teach Parrot how to fake an orgasm, loud and proud, Meg Ryan style.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jade said, eyes narrowed.

“Try me,” he said.

She tried to stare him down, but he’d learned how to handle strong women from the masters: Zoe and Darcy.

Jade backed down.

“Caitlin’s the ex-girlfriend,” Emily said into the silence, clearly asking for confirmation.

“Ex-fiancée, who screwed him over,” Jade corrected, then she caught Wyatt’s gaze as she grimaced. “Sorry,” she said. “That one slipped out. I’m going to control myself now.”

Yeah, right. He felt the weight of Emily’s surprise, but ignored it and Jade. Fucking Mondays. He headed back to his office with the messages. He dumped Caitlin’s into the trash and then stared down at it. “Shit,” he said, and pulled it back out.

“You gonna call her?” This from Dell in the doorway. “Don’t tell Jade.”

“Speaking of Jade, you need to control your woman.”

Dell laughed. “I’m going to do you a favor and not tell her you said that.”

Wyatt crumpled the message and tossed it back into the trash.

“Wise decision,” Dell said.