“We’ll have more nights like tonight. Go, and be careful.” Pressing a quick kiss to his lips she flew out the door toward her car, hoping her father merely had another attack of indigestion.

He may be an insufferable pain in the butt, but he was the only family she had.

Once inside the vehicle, she quickly started it up, counting the minutes until she’d reach home.

Chapter Nine

Lucy wrapped her arms around herself and paced the library, trying her best not to glare at her father.

He was fine. There was nothing wrong with him. High color fused his face. He wasn’t even pale. No sweating, his pulse was strong. He looked fit and robust as he sat reading the financial section of the paper while she paced and fumed.

Oh, he’d tried to give her his best oh-poor-pitiful-me performance when she’d flown through the front door and raced to his side after breaking nearly every speed record between Jake’s house and hers, frantic and praying that she wouldn’t find her father passed out on the floor when she got there…or worse.

He’d been sitting in that very chair, slumped, but rosy cheeked, looking up at her with his sad, puppy dog eyes. He’d coughed, raised a limp hand up to her. Then she’d known. Her father would never go down easy. He’d fight his own death…to the death.

“How do you feel now?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“A little better. The aspirin helped, I think. Thank you.” His voice was faint, barely above a whisper. The man was never going to win an Academy Award for his performance. Honestly, he really was a pathetic liar. He was a master at manipulation in the courtroom, but she knew him all too well. She saw right through this act for exactly what it was—a way to separate her from Jake.

Somehow he’d known she was with Jake and he’d had to pull this dying act to get her to come home.

Though a part of her wasn’t one hundred percent certain that was true, so here she was, playing nursemaid for what she was almost sure was no good reason.

“It means so much to me to have you here by my side, Lucille. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”

Fumed that his ploy hadn’t worked, no doubt. Then strategized a full blown stroke.

Or set the house on fire. “You have a house full of servants, Father.” He shook his head, raising his hand in a weak attempt to brush it through his hair.

“It’s not the same thing. You’re the only family I have. If something had happened and I would have…passed on without seeing you…”

She turned away and rolled her eyes, then sat with her father for another hour while he read the financials. She watched the clock until he finally decided to go to bed, then she said she was going to bed, too. She went up to her room, closed the door, and waited another hour, even creeping over to her father’s wing of the house to make certain his light was off.

It was only ten. She was irritated, pent up and angry at her father for ruining what would have been a very special evening with Jake. She picked up her cell phone and hesitated only a few seconds before pressing the button. Jake answered on the first ring.

“How’s your dad?”

She smiled. “He’s fine. False alarm.”

She heard him exhale. “That’s great news.”

“I think he faked it to get me home.”

Jake paused. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I can’t be sure, but I have my suspicions.” She waited, a bit nervous about inviting herself back over there. It was a Saturday, and he might have plans for the next day.

“So, can you sneak out without Daddy catching you?” She giggled, feeling like a teenager. “Yes, I think so. Are you sure you want me to come back?”

“We need to finish what we started. Don’t get a ticket speeding over here, but hurry the hell up.”

She hung up, feeling a thrill of excitement and warmth as she changed clothes, brushed her teeth and tiptoed out the back door toward the garage. The thirty-minute drive to Jake’s house seemed like hours. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, leaving a glassy sheen on the roads. But that also meant she had to slow down. It didn’t stop her pulse from racing, though.

By the time she pulled into his driveway, her heart was jackhammering and her palms were sweaty. He opened the front door before she’d even started up the walk. She held her breath at the sight of him leaning against the doorway, an open bottle of beer in his hand and a half-smile on his face. God, he was so sexy. And he was hers.

For tonight, anyway.

“Took you long enough.”

“I was trying not to get a ticket since I practically broke the land speed record on the way home.”

He moved out of the way to let her inside, then shut and locked the front door, leading the way into the living room. “Sorry he put you through that.” Lucy sat on the sofa, kicked off her sandals and ran both hands through her unruly hair. “I’m used to it.”

Jake arched a brow. “He has fake heart attacks a lot?”

“No. He manipulates me to get his own way.” She shifted to face him. “But I couldn’t take the chance that something might be seriously wrong with him.”

“I understand. You’re a good daughter.”

She shrugged. “He’s in bed now. He’s fine. And I’m here, with you.”

“Yeah, you are. Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

Lucy suddenly felt awkward, which made her even angrier at her father. Things between her and Jake had been perfect earlier. He had taken her to a magical place. There had been heat and passion brewing between them, and with one phone call her father had put this invisible wedge between her and Jake that she wasn’t sure how to remove.

“Stop thinking.”

“What?” she asked.

“You’re still angry at your dad. He’s interfering. Push him out the door.” Jake was right. Her father was still winning. She refused to let that happen. She pulled her legs up on the sofa and leaned into Jake. “Then kiss me until I can’t think anymore.”

Apparently he didn’t need to be asked twice, because he dragged her into his arms and kissed her. Deep, and with the same mind-boggling passion he’d shown her outside earlier. In a matter of minutes Lucy was fully involved in Jake, all thoughts of her father scattering away.

Now all she knew was Jake’s mouth, the way he moved it over hers in a soft but insistent way. The way he coaxed her lips to part, sliding his tongue inside so she could sample the tangy flavor of beer that still lingered there. He pulled her onto his lap and his hands dove under the sweatshirt, warm and palming the skin of her stomach. She melted into his embrace, settling against him as he widened his legs.

His erection pushed against her hip and the fact that he could be turned on—by her—was a heady, exhilarating experience. It gave her a sense of power, of feeling equal to him because he sure hit her hot buttons in a major way.

He lifted his head. “I’m glad you came back. I’ve been thinking about you since you left.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I can still smell you, can still taste you, and if you didn’t come back tonight I might have had to sneak into your house and up to your bedroom.” She thrilled at the thought of it. Jake in her room. “And what would you have done when you got there?”

“Hopefully made you scream loud enough to bring your father running.” His fingers splayed along the bare expanse of her lower belly, under the waistband of her shorts. He cupped her sex and she was instantly transported to earlier tonight, to how his touch had skyrocketed her into a blinding orgasm. She wanted that again, only this time, she wanted him to go with her.

She lifted against his hand, and whispered his name on a breathless moan.

“Let’s go stretch out on my bed before I lose control again.” He lifted her off his lap and set her on her feet, then took her by the hand.

He’d lost control before? She was pretty certain it had been her who’d totally lost her mind outside. But she liked that he thought himself out of control. She also liked the fact that he held her hand as they walked down the hall, that he seemed to be connected to her emotionally, beyond just this physical act they were about to engage in.

When they entered the bedroom he flipped on the light. “Sorry, it’s a little messy and not fancy.”

She barely remembered his room from the other night, when she’d passed out in a drunken stupor, then woken up hazy and disoriented.

His room had a double bed, with a nice brown quilt that looked handmade. Two simple end tables on each side, a dresser and chest of drawers and a couple lamps.

Typical guy room. But she liked that he wasn’t overly fussy. “It’s a nice room, Jake. Who made the quilt?”

He scratched his nose and looked across at the bed, not at her. “My, uh, my grandmother.”

Oh, how sweet. “I love it. It’s beautiful.” She moved to the side of the bed and began to fold the quilt down to the foot of the bed. Jake went to the other side and helped her. A simple task, yet it felt domestic. Intimate. Nothing like the GQ guys who had made it such a seduction scene when she’d had sex before. Their bedrooms had set the scene so perfectly, as if they’d done it hundreds of times before. It had left her cold. This was so different, so perfect. She smiled at Jake across the bed. He came over to her side and lifted her in his arms.

“Enough small talk. I want to make love to you.”

She gasped, then laughed when he pushed her onto the bed. Her smile died when he crawled onto the bed and lay on top of her, framing her face with his hands. His pelvis aligned with hers, the ridge of his hard shaft insistent as he swept his lips over hers. There was something monumental and heady about him kissing her, and his body’s reaction to that. Not to mention her own body’s wild reaction.

Her heart jacked up its rhythm to near crazy speed. She had to calm down or she’d end up passing out. Again. That would be really bad. Tonight she intended to be calm and clear headed. Or at least clear headed. She was pretty certain calm was going to be out of the question, especially with Jake’s questing fingers doing incredible things to her stomach on their way up to her breasts. When he skimmed across her nipples, calm shredded and she arched against his fingers. He made her feel wild, made her want things she hadn’t wanted in…well, she’d never really craved sex before. Now she did, and it was the most decadent feeling to really want a man like she wanted Jake, to have all these feelings inside just bursting to get out.

He slid his fingers under her bra and found her nipple. The way he watched her while he touched her was unnerving, and yet so hot, so incredibly erotic she felt like she’d combust all over. She wanted more, so much more, and she shifted to her side so she could touch him, too. She rolled his shirt up over his stomach, her fingers curling into the hard planes of his flesh and the soft down she found there. So much to see, so much to touch. She wanted hours—days—to explore him, to see him. Thank God he’d left the light on. She loved seeing his face, his body, his hands on her.

He pushed her over onto her back again, and she started to protest, but then he lifted her sweatshirt and tank top off, and she understood. It was time to get na**d, and she was all for that. Anything that would speed up the process of getting skin to skin. She leaned up on her elbows and watched him take his shirt off, admired the hard planes of his stomach, his tanned chest and well defined arms, as he leaned over her and pulled the straps of her bra down, kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, and the swell of her breast.

She sighed in absolute wonder that he’d take his time with her. The men she’d been with before had been after the big payoff—foreplay hadn’t really been their thing.

Then again, the men she’d been with before had been nothing like Jake.

He unhooked her bra and removed it, then bent and captured her nipple between his lips. When he flicked his tongue over the bud, she tilted her head back and gasped, lost in the sensation, the wet heat, the wonder of finally being right where she wanted to be.

Jake made quick work of her shorts and panties, then his own shorts.

Finally, both of them na**d, she sat up and looked her fill of him. She’d waited a long time for this, had thought about it nonstop since she first met him.

He didn’t disappoint. He was kneeling, his legs slightly apart, and she was in awe.

Someone should sculpt the man. He wasn’t perfect—there were scars here and there—his arms, one on his chest, a few on his legs. The funny thing was, that only added to the pure maleness of him. He was so…real. His body wasn’t one created in the gym. It was honed from daily, backbreaking work, and it showed. All that beautiful muscle, and she couldn’t resist skimming her palms over his chest, down his stomach, his hips.

Her gaze lifted to his. He watched her as she touched him, but he hadn’t said a word.

His eyes said it all—such male approval in the intensity of his gaze. She fisted his cock—so hot, so utterly primal. He hissed, the sound shooting right to her core. She grew wet and anxious and needy just touching this part of him, stroking him, feeling him surge against her hand in silent demand for more. She knew right then that what was going to happen between them was going to be incredible.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and brought her face to his, his lips covering hers, his tongue entering her mouth with such depth, such passion, that it stole her breath.

And still, she held on to him, continuing to squeeze and stroke him, feeling the weight and heat of him in her hand until he grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away, pushing her body down on the bed and covering it with his.