Unlawfully Wedded

“Right,” J.D. grumbled. His coffee had gone cold and it left a bitter taste in his mouth as he forced himself to swallow. “If you came up here, you could deal with the girl. She needs someone like you.”

“That’s not what you said the other evening,” Wesley countered. “You indicated that one night in your capable arms would have her eating out of your hand.”

“I was wrong,” J.D. admitted. Hearing his own arrogant words made him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. “She’s not what I thought at first.”

“Wouldn’t let you in her pants, huh?”

“Not a chance.”

* * *

OPENING HER EYES, Tory blinked against the confusion clouding her lagging brain. Her hand ran over the surface of the rumpled comforter. The movement caused her to feel the coolness of the sheets against her skin. Too much skin, she thought as she threw the bedspread toward her feet. “What?” she mumbled as she discovered she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties. The flame red garments stood out against the stark white sheets. With wide eyes, she allowed her gaze to dart around the room as she tried to pry memories from her brain.

Her fingers feathered her bangs as she concentrated. Recall came slowly. Pain, followed by so many emotions that she lost count. Her father was dead. Had been all these years. A small groan escaped her slightly parted lips.

Images from childhood mingled with bits and pieces of the scene she had waged in the Tattoo. Images of her parents, recalled through the eyes of a mere child. Images of being in J.D.’s arms, remembered by a lingering heat on her skin.

Tory stood on wobbly legs. Only then did she recollect Rose forcing several pills down her throat last night. At least she thought it was last night. Everything seemed to be trapped in a haze. Grabbing her short robe off the hook, she tugged it over her shoulders and yanked open the door. Her eyes collided with a set of gray ones.

“What...?” She managed to tear the word from her constricted throat.

“Good morning,” he said easily, unfolding himself from the sofa.

Her mouth remained open as she took in the scene. J.D. had a tousled, rugged look that cemented her to the spot. His dark hair was mussed, as if someone had been running their fingers through it. His shirt was open, and the edges pulled farther apart as he rose to his full height of well over six feet. Tory’s eyes fell to the thick, black curls and then lower, where they tapered and disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans.

Realizing too late that such a brazen appraisal might prove dangerous, she lifted her gaze to his. His expression was intense, his eyes narrowed to a glistening silver. Again she realized the error of her ways too late. She could feel his eyes as they took in the lacy edges of her bra, could feel them linger at the valley between her breasts.

Feeling her skin color the same deep red as her lingerie, Tory grabbed the edges of her belt, twisting her exposed body away from the scrutiny of his examination. She’d given him an eyeful, she thought ruefully as she tied the belt so tightly that it actually made each breath painful.

“I made another pot of coffee,” he told her, his voice deep and as smooth as smoke.

“Thanks,” she said, willing herself into composure. “What are you doing here?” she asked as she padded into the kitchen. The vision of his eyes followed, narrowed with interest and a purely dangerous glint.

“Rose didn’t think you should be alone.”

“So she left you here with me?”

Tory turned to find that his expression had changed. His eyes were still narrowed, but she saw flashes of barely leashed anger that stilled her stiff movements.

“Any reason Rose wouldn’t trust us together?” he asked, one dark eyebrow arched high.

“We aren’t exactly close,” she offered, hoping her voice sounded more calm than she actually felt.

“Not because I haven’t tried,” he returned as a lazy half smile curved one corner of his mouth.

Tory directed a heavy sigh toward her bangs. “Don’t start, J.D.”

He moved with a quickness and grace that belied his size. Suddenly he was in front of her, his broad, bare chest dominating her vision. “Believe me, doll,” he began in a low hum, “when I start on you, you’ll know it.”

His words burned against her ears and she fought the instinct to raise a hand and slap his arrogant face. But she decided to stand her ground. She would not react. It was, she had learned, her only weapon against this man’s blatant maleness. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat on the word. “As you can see, I’m fine, so you can just go crawl back under your rock.”

She smiled up at him, fighting the constriction in her throat when she looked at him through the thickness of her lashes. J.D. didn’t move. Not at all. He simply allowed his body to heat the air between them. Forced her to breathe in the scent of his skin. Power fairly radiated from this man. Power that Tory was only beginning to comprehend. One thing she knew, she realized as she struggled to hold his gaze, J. D. Porter was way out of her league. She surrendered, closing her eyes before lowering her chin fractionally.

“Thank you for staying,” she said after a drawn-out silence, punctuated only by the even sound of his breathing. Perhaps graciousness might accomplish her goal of dismissing this disturbing man.

“No problem,” he said as he slowly stepped back. The edge to his voice was still there, but it wasn’t quite as sharp.

Tory turned back to the sink, thinking how helpful it might be to douse herself with cold water. J.D. somehow managed to ignite small fires in every cell of her body. She reached up into the cabinet in search of a coffee cup. His sharp intake of breath was as thrilling as it was disquieting. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that the action, however innocent, had resulted in her flashing the big man a goodly amount of leg. She lowered her arm slowly, snidely hoping to give him a healthy dose of his own medicine.

With a cup of coffee in hand, she finally mustered the nerve to look at him again. The flash of anger was gone, all right, but it had been replaced by something even more devastating. Hunger—raw, passionate and definitely frightening. A small voice of reason chanted that saying about playing with fire as she bolted for the living room.

J.D. followed, his pace slow, but determined. It conjured visions of a predator stalking its prey. Tory wasn’t at all sure she could handle being this man’s quarry.

“Rose called earlier,” he said conversationally.

His calm, businesslike demeanor only made her more aware of her own raging pulse. The man was obviously some sort of machine. She’d seen him do this time and time again during the course of their short acquaintance. J.D. could be in a rage one minute, calm as a gentle breeze the next.

“I should call and apologize,” Tory said, tracing the top of her cup with her fingernail.

“For what?”

“Falling apart yesterday.”

“Appropriate under the circumstances,” he said as he turned one of her metal chairs and mounted it. His well-developed forearms rested against its back.

Her interest fell to his exposed stomach, wondering absently how those ripples of muscle would feel beneath her fingertips.

“Don’t you think?”

“Sorry,” Tory mumbled as her attention dropped to study a polyurethaned knot in the wooden floor.

“I said, I thought your actions were appropriate under the circumstances. That must have been quite a shock for you.”

“It was,” she admitted softly. “I still can’t believe he’s been there all this time.”

“Where did you think he was?”

Sitting at the table and tucking her bare feet under the hem of her short robe, Tory placed the coffee cup on the table. “I just always believed he’d suffered some sort of midlife crisis and bolted.”

“Leaving his loving wife and daughter behind?”

Tory peered up at him through her lashes, trying to gauge his sincerity. Unfortunately, J.D. had the perfect face for poker. It revealed absolutely nothing.

Her lids fluttered closed as she felt a swell of emotion grip her chest. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve hated him all these years. How many times I’ve wished him dead for what he did to my mother.”

“You didn’t know.”

Somehow his words failed to bring absolution.