Spin Page 7

“I don’t know why my mother totally ignored everything I said,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s weird.”

  We looked at each other, this smart, observant, pretty, streamrollable daughter of a madwoman and myself. We had a lot in common.

  Except no one would ever steamroll me.

  I felt a little better.

  My phone rang and I grabbed it. God, I loved my phone. “Hello?” I said as I waved good-bye to Olivia, who was wafting out of the room.

  It was the caterer. As she reviewed her numerous and very valid concerns, I turned and gazed out the window, nodding. Mrs. Lovey stood in conversation with a construction worker at the edge of their lawn, near the circular drive. She turned, pointing back toward the house, and I saw who she was talking to.

  Finn.

  My heart almost stopped.

  Faded jeans sat low on his hips, and he wore a loose cotton shirt and exuded Big Bad, from the dusty work boots to the backward-facing ball cap, to his scruffy black hair and the way sex emanated off him like waves of heat, even at a hundred yards through a bay window.

  Also, he was pissed. Pissed emanated too.

  At me.

  What is he doing here?

  My knees actually wobbled.

  I thought of all the things Finn had done in his life, all the lines he’d crossed, all the trouble he’d concocted simply by going his own way. I thought of the look in his eye by the river when he toyed with outing me eleven years ago. I thought of the way he said he didn’t want to talk about his time in the military.

  Finn didn’t play with toys anymore.

  What would a man who didn’t care much for rules do, if a woman had walked out on him without saying good-bye?

  I felt true fear.

  Minimize the damage. The mantra kicked through my fear.

  I could still hear the caterer talking on the phone as I bolted for the door. Flinging the door open, I eyed the expanse of lawn between me and them, then kicked off my shoes and hurried barefoot across the lawn.

  Only a true emergency could have made me do it.

  I sprinted over the cool green softness. Finn’s head lifted slightly and his sunglasses looked over Mrs. Lovey’s shoulder at me.

  I made a stern face at him. He didn’t move. I pointed a warning finger. He was like a brick, no reply. Then his face tipped back down and he said something to Mrs. Lovey.

  I hurried faster. I could hear the wind whipping past my ears. Or maybe that was my inner voice screaming horror stories at me.

  I drew up just behind Mrs. Lovey, breathless, tucking loose hair back in place and tugging down on my skirt. She turned and raised her plucked eyebrows high on her forehead.

  “Jane, I’m surprised. Mr. Dante here says—”

  “I can explain,” I said, breathless.

  She stopped. “You can?”

  “Yes,” I said hurriedly, pushing hair off my face. “We used to know each other, when we were kids.”

  She nodded slowly. She didn’t seem convinced. She seemed confused.

  “I’m sorry you were disturbed, Mrs.— Lovey.” I glanced at Finn. His sunglasses regarded me in silence. “This is a bad time, Mr. Dante,” I told him briskly. “I’m kind of busy. Maybe you could call me later? Or text me?” I added hopefully. Smoke signals, anything that kept him a safe distance from my body.

  I felt rather than saw his look harden.

  I turned back to Mrs. Lovey, who stared at me. “I’m so sorry you were disturbed.”

  “Jane, what is going on?” she demanded.

  “Can you please move?” I said to Finn, my teeth sort of gritted as I wrapped a hand around his bicep and tried to drag him off. It was like trying to move a boulder. “It’s all my fault, Mrs. Sandler-Ross.”

  “What is your fault?”

  The first glimmer of confusion threaded through me, and I had the thought I might not actually be minimizing damage here. I stopped, my hand still on Finn’s arm. “That I…that he….”

  “That he what?”

  “That he’s here. That you were disturbed.” I dropped my hand. “I’m sorry. He’s sorry.” I turned to Finn and hissed, “Say something.”

  He looked at Lovey and nodded gravely. “It’s all her fault.”

  Mrs. Lovey shook her head, exasperated. “Jane, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  My face flushed to my eyelids.

  “I simply want him to—”

  “He’s leaving right now.”

  “—look at the circuit breakers.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  She made a faint sound of impatience. “My husband mentioned we might need additional circuitry, so I called Mr. Dante.”

  “Why did you do that?” I asked wildly.

  “Jane, he built us the pavilion,” she exclaimed.

  “Right,” I breathed, nodding, trying to regroup. “Of course. The pavilion. Finn built you the pavilion. That’s why he’s here.” I turned and studied him and his stupid sunglasses. “You didn’t mention you built the Sandler-Ross’s pavilion.”

  “We were busy with other stuff.”

  I had a terrible fear he was going to elaborate.

  Mrs. Lovey squinted at me. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “Yes,” I admitted miserably.

  “Well, this might be quite serendipitous.”

  What did serendipitous mean again, exactly? ’Cause as I looked at my reflection in Finn Dante’s sunglasses, I wasn’t feeling “good fortune” coming from him. More, Don’t fuck with me.

  Or maybe, Fuck me.

  Mrs. Lovey’s voice filtered in. “…because I know nothing about circuit boards. Who is that, Jane?”

  I snapped my gaze away from Finn. “Pardon?”

  She pointed at my hand, which was still clutching the phone. “On the phone?”

  “Oh! Yes. The caterer. For you.” Then I pushed the Off button. “Whoops. My battery just died. You better go inside and call her back, though.”

  It was something, to know the caterer I’d never worked with before had got to hear all that. I always like to make a good first impression.

  Mrs. Lovey tottered off, heels daggering into the electric-green lawn to go in for was going to be a long phone conversation. Very long. The caterer had a lot to say. Whereas I stood in my bare feet, staring at the pavilion, having no conversation whatsoever, because Finn stood completely silent at my side.

  Nine

  ~ Jane ~

  “SO YOU’RE NOT here for me?” I mumbled. This should make me happy, right?

  “Oh, I’m here for you.”

  A shiver zipped through me. “And the circuit breakers.”

  “I don’t do circuit breakers.”

  “Are you angry?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I left a note,” I said, rather lamely, if I do say so myself.

  He stepped up to me real close. “I’m not a note person, Jane. And I do not like to be fucked with.”

  All the breath whooshed out of me.

  “Maybe we should talk,” I said.

  “You read my fucking mind.”

  The breath jackknifed in my chest. Two fucks from Finn in as many minutes was about par for the course. Two fucks coming out of his mouth in anger in that span of time? Not so good.

  I lifted my chin and led him off behind the long, manicured hedge of yews that bordered the lawn, creating a narrow strip of renegade brown grass that tumbled into the ravine to the west.

  Updrafts from the river valley lifted strands of hair off my neck as I led him silently down the secret corridor of lawn, to an old picnic table I’d found yesterday when I was searching for a place to store the items we were going to need to clear out of the house to make room for a hundred and thirty guests. The whole area looked like it had been forgotten years ago.

  When we reached the table, I turned and gave him a look, eyebrows up.

  He returned it with a long, silent one of his own, which went on. And o
n. And on. I felt scared. Wait, I should feel scared. But Finn didn’t scare me. So this wasn’t fear, this electric cord snapping down my belly, deep into my girl regions.

  This was excitement. Red and fired up.

  Uh-oh.

  I reached up with shaky hands and slid the sunglasses off his face so I could look into his eyes and not see the reflection of me. I was breathing fast.

  “I left because, you and me, Finn? It’ll never work.”

  His blue eyes regarded me. “We seemed to work pretty good last night.”

  “I mean in the long run.”

  “You thinking about a long run with me, Jane?”

  Something big and wavelike rose up inside me. Weightless. I pushed it down. “Of course not,” I said sharply. “No. Never.”

  He eyed me for a long time in a way that made me uncomfortable. “You didn’t think it wouldn’t work. You thought it wouldn’t fit. You thought I wouldn’t fit.”

  “I thought it wouldn’t matter,” I shot back. “I didn’t think it would matter.”

  His eyebrow went up. “To me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really.” It didn’t sound like a question.

  “Really.” I felt the dew getting warm under my toes as I tried to meet his eye.

  He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. You thought it would matter, to you. And you got scared.”

  “Scared? Scared? I don’t get scared.”

  He snorted. “You live in fear.”

  My jaw dropped. “That’s r-ridiculous.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles in his forearms rippled. “Yeah? Tell me, then, why wouldn’t I care?”

  “Well, it’s just, you’re so….” I swung out my hand. “We’re so…different. We move in different worlds.”

  His smile was grim. “Meaning I’m still trash and you’re not anymore?”

  I shook my head fast. Finn Dante was the opposite of trash. He was on the level in every way. What you saw was what you got. He didn’t lie, not with his clothes or his words or his body. He simply was.

  Me, I was a big fat lie.

  And if I stayed with Finn, he was going to figure that out, fast. That sort of shredded me up inside. Like a cheese grater down the inside of my chest.

  “No.” I shook my head, staring down at my painted toenails in the sparkling green grass. “No. You’re not trash, Finn, not even close.”

  He was dark, hard voodoo magic, and I was a bright, shiny shell.

  He leaned forward and put his mouth beside my ear. “I’m tired of being your dare, Janey,” he said, real quiet.

  I shivered.

  “Hear me?”

  “I hear you,” I whispered back.

  His jaw brushed my cheekbone. “I thought you were being brave when you kissed me at thirteen.”

  “I was.”

  “You’re not now.”

  I took a steadying breath. “I…it’s complicated.”

  “Not with me it’s not.”

  “It’s supposed to be,” I said. In my bare feet, he was over six inches taller, so I had to tip my head way back to meet his blue eyes. “I get confused.”

  A shaft of sunlight speared through the tangle of branches and lit up the side of his face. “We’re good together. How’s that confusing?”

  “It’s not all about the sex,” I demurred, my face flushing.

  “I’m not talking about sex.”

  Oh.

  “Did you know my phone died last night?” I asked fiercely. Accusatorily.

  One dark eyebrow inched up. “I did not know that.”

  “Well, it did.

  This brought a moment of contemplative silence. His eyes searched mine, no doubt seeing all sorts of things that would make a sane man run. Then the corners of his mouth lifted slightly. “Okay. We can handle that. I’ll buy some chargers.”

  I swallowed.

  He slipped his hand around the nape of my neck and pulled me forward until our chests touched. His face was right over mine. “Are you feeling confused right now?”

  I shook my head, even though I was. Because why did I feel like crying? Why wasn’t I running away? Why was I letting him bring me so close, until my bare toes touched his work boots and I could rest my palms on his chest?

  “No, Finn,” I said softly, my body firing. “I’m not confused at all.”

  “Good,” he murmured. Shivers raked down my body. He bent to my neck and kissed it, then licked me under my earlobe, a hot flick. “So we’re good?”

  “We’re good.”

  “You’re in?”

  My body was hot, and everywhere he’d touched yesterday tingled, as if I’d been traced with gold lining. And he’d touched me everywhere.

  “I’m in,” I whispered.

  He slid his hand up the hem of my summery dress, up the front of my leg. I froze.

  “I don’t think here is the right place,” I whispered.

  “Here’s the perfect place,” he disagreed, biting my neck. He had a point.

  “But….”

  “But what?” He didn’t seem terribly interested in my reply. He flattened his hand and slid it between my legs.

  I glanced wildly at the yew hedge. Far in the distance, maybe by the driveway, I heard voices.

  “But someone might”—my voice dropped to a tiny whisper—“hear us.” As I said the words, a small hot shiver undulated through me.

  “Oh,” he said, real low. Like he saw something. Or understood something.

  Like he knew something.

  He reached around me to flip up my skirt and cup my bottom with his hard hands.

  “Finn,” I whisper-gasped.

  “What?”

  “You…” I’d been going to say can’t. You can’t. I changed it to shouldn’t in my head, but somehow, it came out as a question. “Should we?”

  He grinned down at me. “I thought you were in, Janey Mac.”

  I’m pretty sure that was a challenge.

  My entire career was predicated on challenges. I delicately arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, I’m in.”

  His smile got bigger. “Let’s see what you got.”

  “I’ve got lots— Oh!” I gasped as he bent his legs a little, tightened his hands on my ass, and lifted me to perch against the edge of the picnic table.

  “Lots of what?” I could hear amusement in his voice.

  “I—ideas.”

  His low laugh rumbled over me. “Let’s hear them, tiger.” He stepped between my legs. I could feel his erection pressing against me as his gaze raked down my body.

  “I’m just a little scared,” I whispered.

  His eyes lifted to mine. “No you’re not. You’re excited.”

  “You keep telling me when I’m scared and when I’m not,” I complained as firmly as I could, considering he was sliding his hand up my skirt and I wanted him to.

  “That’s because you keep getting it wrong,” he said and turned his hand over and fluttered his fingers right up against me.

  I’m pretty sure he meant what came next to just be a kiss, a touch, a test. Get us hot and maybe, if he was really good, get me done real fast. But it hit me like logs falling off a truck—Finn had come looking for me.

  For me.

  Sure, maybe it was because he’d been angry and didn’t like to be jerked around, but I didn’t really see Finn as the kind of guy to hunt someone down to tell them off.

  He’d just write them off.

  But he came after me.

  I felt like my heart was fissured by this realization, opened up. And into that opening slipped all sorts of important things—my knowledge of bad boys and the trouble they caused; my vow never to let anyone gets close enough to see the emptiness inside; my good intentions never to have sexual congress in a client’s backyard.

  All these things and others went tumbling into the fissure of my suddenly opened heart.Finn had come for me.

  Okay, I might have gone a little nuts.

  Our roles f
rom that river kiss were reversed, because although Finn might have started this kiss, I most definitely finished it off.

  I pushed his hand away and sat up suddenly.

  “Whoa,” he said quietly.

  “You’re not in charge here, buddy,” I whispered and moved to the edge of the table to wrap my knees around his hips. His mouth curved up against my lips.

  The hard seam of his jeans rubbed against me, pushing roughly over my clit, so I started panting and making crazy little sounds, trying to climb up his body.

  He pulled back, tore open a condom packet that he’d materialized out of thin air, while I fumbled with his pants, unbuttoning them. In a second, he pulled me forward and sheathed himself inside me, hard and fast, without stopping, his head back, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck strained.

  I cried out, dropped my head forward onto his collar as he lifted me and turned us so he was leaning back against the table, holding me up.

  “Drop your legs,” he ordered roughly, his hands firm on my bottom.

  So I did, and he bent his legs to lower himself, shifting our angle. My feet weren’t touching the ground, but close, my legs spread. It was awkward and uncomfortable, more so for him than me, and I really thought our experiment with this position should end about now, when he tilted himself back, bringing me forward slightly, my legs dangling, and he surged up inside me and hit or created some place of insane pleasure.

  I gasped real loud, then moaned. “Jesus, Finn,” I whispered. He kept moving in a way that could not be comfortable for him but was magic for me.

  He lowered us slowly, sat on the bench, and I straddled him, leaning into him as he pushed my shirt up and kissed my breasts under the rising sun. I became a technician, reaching for that feeling again, one foot on the ground, one knee on the bench, my head bent, my back arched. He put his elbows on the table behind him and lifted his hips and that’s when he hit it again.

  It moved through me like a wave. It started in my feet, moved up my back, through my bottom, across my breasts and belly. I was electric. I flung my head back with a hard, sharp cry and knelt down on him, taking him in me hard and fast.

  Hot undulations whipped through me and I—hand to God—screamed in pleasure.

  I flung my palms over my mouth. He laughed, low and pleased. I ripped my hands off my mouth and moved them to hold his face. I brought our eyes real close together.