What Janie Wants Page 13

  Janie pulled the window cover beside her shut and stifled a groan of frustration. Damn, but her nails were a mess. Then again, an antsy woman stuck three hours in an international airport and two and half hours on a flight would ruin even the best manicure.

  “As we approach the gate, we’d like to remind you to remain in your seat with your seatbelt fastened until the captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign overhead. We know you have a choice when you travel and we appreciate you choosing our airline.”

  Two fifteen. Another thirty to get her bags from baggage claim. McKenna and Thomas were due to pick her up at three. Plenty of time to put the plan she’d worked with her kids into play before nightfall.

  The big, burly man in the center seat grunted as he leaned forward and pulled his laptop back out from under the space in front of him. “You got big plans or you just hate flying?”

  Janie checked her seat back pocket for the thirtieth time. No trash. Phone in her purse. “Hmmm?”

  The man beside her chuckled. “I asked what’s got you so jumpy.”

  “Me?”

  “Yup.”

  She flipped through her purse. The letter was right where she’d left it. “What makes you think I’m jumpy?”

  “Because that knee of yours hasn’t quit jiggling since take off.”

  She planted her foot flat on the floor. “Sorry.”

  He laughed good naturally and flicked his seatbelt open way before the sign turned off.

  Ding.

  Thank God. Janie surged upright as far as the overhead bin would let her, and organized her stuff. Normally the chaos of traveling didn’t bother her, but right now all she could think about was taking charge and getting the twelve rows in front of her out of her way.

  She hit the jet way with long strides, her thighs eking out a none-to-subtle reminder that she’d spent the last seven days mostly on her ass. She bet she’d put on ten pounds.

  Well, maybe not. What she’d gained days one through five might have been offset by her limited intake for the last two. She sure as heck hadn’t touched any more wine.

  Huddled with the rest of her fellow travelers, she glared at the electronic sign above her baggage carousel as if that might somehow hurry their bags’ appearance. A phone call to Zade was the safe bet. She’d thought she wouldn’t have a choice but to use Dahlia’s letter and reach out to him face to face, but then McKenna had jumped on the bandwagon and tracked down his phone number in a whopping thirty minutes.

  No, calling was the easy way. He’d taken chance after chance for her. This was a time for her to be brave. To do exactly what Arlo suggested. Chase after Zade and lay her heart out there. To let him know she was serious.

  The long, grating buzzer sounded and the travelers jostled for position around the bin. The bags rode into view at a glacial pace. It figured, hers would be one of the last.

  Two fifty. Ten more minutes. She’d ride home with her kids, drop off her suitcases, and freshen up a bit. Maybe she’d wear one of the sundresses Zade had talked her into buying downtown. The deep emerald green accented her newly acquired tan and made her hair stand out. God knew, he liked her hair.

  Yep. The sundress would be perfect. She slowed her steps to match the painfully slow automatic rotating doors and punched out into the gruesome Texas heat. Ugh. Definitely freshening up first. Hard to wow a guy and talk him into a second chance with wilted hair and blotched makeup.

  She pulled her phone out of her purse and thumbed to her text messages. Waiting at Terminal E, she typed to McKenna. Thomas would be driving and she didn’t dare text him. No matter how many times she told him it was bad to text and drive, he refused to listen. Typical Thomas. Always thinking he knew better.

  Pulling in now, her daughter typed back. Amazing, how fast her kids could operate technology. But she’d get there too. Her life was about to take a seriously different turn, one way or another.

  Sure enough, her silver Lexus RX came around the corner and angled for the inside lane. Her kids hopped out and the hatch opened on a slow glide.

  “McKenna.” She hugged her baby girl and let out a relieved breath. She was here, her kids were on board with her plans, and everything would work out. She hoped.

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding,” Thomas said to McKenna as he reached for his hug.

  Janie held him as long as he’d let her with so many people puttering around. “Right about what?”

  “That you were hyped up like a whacked out One Direction freak.” Thomas let her go and stepped back. “Not sure why you’re in such a hurry, though. You’ve got his address and I doubt he’s gonna disappear overnight. Need to play it cool. Not rush it.”

  “Oh, shut up, Tommy,” McKenna said and turned to Janie. “He won’t admit it, but he’s the one that jumped in and found Zade’s phone number.”

  Janie grinned at her son and motioned to the bags. “Okay, lets get loaded up. Got lots to do.”

  Thomas laughed and reached for her bag.

  “I’ll get that.” The voice came up from behind her, breathless and bright.

  Before she could turn, someone reached for her bag and lifted it. Strong hands, long fingers, delicious tan.

  Zade.

  He picked her bag up and cupped her nape. “Can’t believe I almost missed you.”

  “You’re here.” Had she said it out loud or merely thought it? His touch and warmth battered the apprehension she’d held since yesterday. Here. With her. She couldn’t get past any more than that, his touch scrambling her thoughts and motor skills.

  “Arlo called me.” His thumb back and forthed against her neck, slow and comforting. “Told me when you’d be in.”

  The flight schedule. She’d given the information to a very begrudging Arlo as Dahlia had suggested. Sneaky, sneaky woman.

  “That okay?” he said.

  “More than okay.” Her heart made up for the beats it had missed since she’d heard his voice, and she felt light enough to float away if the Texas heat allowed the slightest breeze. “I was coming home to find you.”

  “Yeah, he told me that too.” He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. “I couldn’t wait that long.”

  Thomas cleared his throat.

  “Oh.” Janie pulled away and smoothed her hand across her stomach. It didn’t help. The flutters wouldn’t stop. “Zade, these are my kids. Thomas and McKenna.”

  Zade offered his hand to Thomas first, then McKenna. “Good to meet you.”

  Good grief. Her fuddled mind finally kicked into gear as Zade hefted her bags and loaded them into the back of the SUV. “You’re all dressed up.”

  Pale blue shirt, tan business slacks, and navy blue sport coat. Not exactly a boardroom three piece suit, but still sexy as hell in a cover model kind of way. His hair looked different too. The same length, but more polished in the way it was styled.

  “Met with my attorney this morning. That’s why I almost missed you.” He reached for the overnight bag she’d slung on her shoulder. “I signed the paperwork to get my business back.”

  She clenched her purse strap tighter and fought the urge to bounce up and down like a giddy seven-year old. She’d really helped him.

  McKenna sidled up beside her and muttered, “I thought you said he was young. He looks old enough to me.”

  Zade closed the hatch and met her gaze, an eyebrow lifted.

  Her chest tightened and her vision blurred with a trace of tears. He’d come for her. He’d fought for her. And looking at her the way he was right now, she felt nothing short of invincible.

  She stepped off the curb and laid her hand above his heart. Its solid, steady rhythm pounded beneath her palm, as powerful and stalwart as the man it beat for. Wherever they went from here was up to them. Two free-spirited souls making their way despite convention. “It doesn’t matter how old he is. He’s what I want.”

  Be sure to check out Book One in The Eden Series

  From Rhenna Morgan

  UNEXPEC
TED EDEN

  Available now from Kensington's Lyrical Press

  Chapter One

  Slow breaths in, slow breaths out. All Lexi had to do was focus on the thump of Rihanna’s latest hit, keep the drinks flowing, and stick to her half of the bar. The mother lode of testosterone on Jerry’s side couldn’t sit there all night. Could he?

  “Don’t suppose you’ve noticed, but there’s a scrumptious not-from-around-here type giving you the eyeball.” Mindy grinned and handed over the latest round of drink orders.

  White t-shirt, killer muscles, and dark chocolate hair halfway down his back? Yeah, she’d noticed. Repeatedly. And every time she went for a visual refill, his silver gaze shocked nerve endings she’d long thought dead.

  “Drop it, Mindy. Guys like that are an occupational hazard and you know it.”

  “Honey, that man is way past hazard. More like Chernobyl.” She leaned into the trendy concrete countertop. The modern pendant lights spotlighted her platinum hair and ample cleavage. One thing about Mindy—she knew how to work her assets. “I’ll bet the fallout’s worth it.”

  “It’s packed tonight. You gonna get those drinks out and stash a few tips, or waste ’em on eye candy?”

  Mindy’s dreamy smile melted and she pulled the loaded cocktail tray close. “All work and no play, huh?” She shook her head and turned for the crowd. “Have fun with that.”

  Well, hell. Another social interaction down the toilet. At twenty-five-years-old, you’d think she could handle a little female bonding in the form of man-ogling. Especially when four of those years had been spent tending bar. But damn it, some things weren’t meant for discussion. Her overactive man-jitters being one of them.

  Crouching to snag a fresh bottle of vodka beneath the counter, she peeked behind her.

  Lips guaranteed to make a girl forget her name curled into a sly smile.

  Busted.

  She spun away too fast and scraped her forehead against the rough edge of the bar. “Son of a fucking, no good piece of shit.” Head down, she counted to three and fought the need to check for witnesses, thankful the music was loud enough to cover her curse. The graceless gawker routine wasn’t normally her deal, but for the last thirty minutes she’d come up woefully short in the finesse department—and it was all the dark-haired man’s fault.

  New bottle ready for action, she faced two middle-aged men dressed like frat boys and settled into her pour-and-bill groove. The routine was a comfort, a stabilizing rhythm to counterbalance the ever-present gaze heavy on her back.

  “Hey, Lex.” Jerry smacked her shoulder and motioned behind him, never breaking stride as he headed for the register. “Tall, dark and handsome wants to see you.”

  She wouldn’t look. Not again. The giggling trio of barely legal blondes fighting their way into ordering range wasn’t nearly as nice on the eyes, but at least they kept her anchored. “Since when did you take up matchmaking?”

  “Since the guy offered me a Benjamin to make sure it was you who took care of him.”

  What? She spun.

  The stranger met her surprised stare head on, his smirk a potent mix of humble and confident. “Sold me down the river, did you?”

  “Damn right.” Jerry winked, shoved a stack of wrinkled bills into the register, and swaggered toward the waiting blondes without so much as a wish for good luck.

  Lexi huffed and took an order from the none-too-shabby twenty-something guy right in front of her on principle. Mystery man could cool his jets for a minute or two. Besides, if his banter matched his looks, she’d need every second she could get to batten down the hatches.

  She filled orders with slow deliberation and an extra bit of bravado, grabbing snippets of recon where she could.

  A vicious looking man sat next to her dark-haired hunk. Lazy raven waves fell to a hard jawline, a tightly trimmed goatee making his harsh face a downright menace. Entirely the wrong selection for wingman material.

  Out of customers and bar space, she faced both men and wiped down of the counter. “What can I get you?” The catchall phrase came out shakier than she wanted, and tried to cover it with an intensive, yet completely unnecessary study of the bottles stocked below the counter.

  “You disliked my tactic.” God help her, the man had a voice to match his face. An easy glide that left a slow burn in its wake. Kind of like fifty-year-old Scotch. “I admit it’s not my style, but I was desperate.”

  Not exactly the approach she’d expected from a hottie, but it did help ease her tension. “There’s not a thing desperate about you and we both know it.”

  He answered with a megawatt smile that damn near knocked her off her feet. Utterly relaxed, he rested muscled forearms on the bar and raised an eyebrow. “Have dinner with me.”

  She shouldn’t be able to hear him in such a crush, let alone register a physical impact, but damned if she wasn’t processing both loud and clear. “I don’t even know you.”

  He offered his hand. Long, strong fingers stretched out, showing calluses along his palm. “Eryx Shantos.”

  Wingman stared straight ahead, his aqua eyes cold enough to freeze a soul.

  “Lexi Merrill.” As their palms met, a rush fired up her arm and down her spine, and she shook as though she’d cozied up to a blow dryer in a bathtub. She ripped her hand away and rubbed the tingling center up and down her jean-clad hip.

  Eryx didn’t so much as blink, his sword-colored gaze glinting with dare and determination.

  Maybe fatigue was taking a toll on her imagination. Or the flu. Or a desperate need to get laid. Gripping the bar for support, she took an order from a cute little brunette trying to avoid a middle-aged, bald guy’s come-on.

  Except for a slow pull off his beer, Wingman stayed stock-still. His angry expression screamed, “Stay the fuck back.”

  “Now you know me,” Eryx said. “Have dinner with me.”

  “I have to work.”

  “Then lunch.”

  “I work then too.” A lame excuse, but true. Two jobs and part-time college didn’t leave a lot of room for being social. Not that socializing ever managed to work in her favor.

  “Breakfast, then.”

  A half-hearted laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

  “You have nooo idea.” Wingman tipped his longneck for another drink, fingers loose around the dark glass despite his tight voice.

  Eryx shot him a nasty glare.

  “Your friend doesn’t talk much.” Lexi grabbed a few empties and dunked them in a tub of soapy water.

  “His name’s Ludan. And he may not be able to talk at all by the time the night’s over. Depends on if he manages to keep his tongue intact.”

  “Yo! Need a few Bud Lights.” Two college-age men in need of a manners class shoved their way to Ludan’s free side.

  Ludan straightened and pushed the men back a handful of steps with nothing more than a glare.

  No way was she dealing with the fallout from a brawl, even if the young punks could use the lesson. “Stand down and kill the scary badass routine.”

  Ludan faced her, his eyes a shade closer to white than blue. It took a tense breath or two, but the muscles beneath his black t-shirt relaxed and he smirked. He eased down on his barstool and snagged his beer. “Your woman’s got bite, Eryx.”

  She snatched a pair of Buds from the cooler and popped the tops off. “I’m not his woman.”

  “Not yet.” Eryx’s calm retort landed between them—part taunt, part promise. The sheer resoluteness in his expression sent a rush she didn’t dare analyze clear to her toes.

  Better to get down to business and add some distance before she did something she’d regret. “Tell me what you want to drink. I gotta get back to work.”

  “I’ve already told you want I want.”

  Lexi planted a hand on her hip and thanked God he couldn’t see her pounding heart. “A tall order that’s not on the menu.”

  Eryx nodded, a slow, sultry
move that intimated a whole lot more than simple agreement. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

  A blast of déjà vu hit and left her stunned. A hot gush of frustration shoved in behind it and spun her back toward her half of the bar. With a thump on Jerry’s arm, she motioned toward Eryx. “He’s all yours. I want the sane side back.”

  She worked her portion of the crowd with single-minded enthusiasm. Worth waiting for. It was just a line. Guys like Eryx were landmines waiting for a trigger.

  A couple nuzzled nose to nose, an out-of-place intimacy amid the harsh lights from the dance floor. Her heart stuttered. Was she bypassing something good? Maybe she should circle back. See if he needed another—

  He was gone, his wingman with him. A gaggle of women, one with a naughty tiara and last-night-of-freedom sash wrapped around her, crowded between the leather and chrome barstools.

  The tiny thread of hope she’d refused to acknowledge snapped in half. She snatched a bag of ice from the back cooler and shook it over the longnecks along the front bin of the bar. She knew better than to wish for things like love. Hell, she hadn’t even done a double take on a guy in more years than she could count. She could get a massage from a team of Chippendales and she probably wouldn’t get excited. What made her think she’d ever find anyone worth laying her heart on the line?

  She turned for the rear register and shoved her disappointment deep. Better to study that topic later—say in about five years. She’d finish out the night, prep for tomorrow like she always did, and be glad she’d avoided the drama.

  Pinpricks raced down her spine and warmth surrounded her. Not the slick and humid dance floor variety, but comforting, infused with leather and sandalwood. Out of place. Delicious.

  Ordinary patrons reflected in the wide mirror before her, faces bright with the glaze of alcohol. Nothing stood out. No danger.

  But she could have sworn warm, rough fingertips grazed her cheek.

  Perched on the high retaining wall at the end of the parking lot, Eryx glared at the streetlight overhead. One flick of his wrist and he could fry the whole damned contraption with an electric pulse. Better on his patience for sure, but not so great for his plans. Smart women like Lexi weren’t usually keen on dark parking lots at two-thirty in the morning.