Authors: Susan Fox
Body Heat (8 page)
She came back to reality with a thud. The waiter was looking at her expectantly. What had he said?
Embarrassed, realizing she’d again become the center of attention and Agnes was frowning, she muttered, “The pear tart.”
“An excellent choice, madam.”
She felt like snapping,
I’m not a madam!
Then she realized how it would sound. What an odd word, with two such different meanings. No one on earth would take uptight Maura for the madam of a, uh, brothel, to use the most polite word she could think of. She remembered Jesse’s odd expression the first time she put her glasses on. Maybe it was time to consider getting contact lenses.
I’m not a madam!
Then she realized how it would sound. What an odd word, with two such different meanings. No one on earth would take uptight Maura for the madam of a, uh, brothel, to use the most polite word she could think of. She remembered Jesse’s odd expression the first time she put her glasses on. Maybe it was time to consider getting contact lenses.
She’d bet, whoever Jesse was spending the evening with, the woman didn’t wear glasses.
Jesse tested the burgers by pressing the spatula against them gently. “I figure they’re done. Whadda ya say, dude?” he asked the eight-year-old boy who watched his every move.
“I say so, too, dude.”
“Okay, go tell your ma.”
Jesse flipped the burgers onto a plate and turned off the barbecue. He stepped off the balcony and followed Juanito into the tiny apartment, feeling abused muscles protest. It’d been a hell of a long day out there in the blazing sun, and he was beat.
Consuela emerged from the kitchen, looking tousled and pretty in hot-pink shorts and a white crop top. “Juanito, go wash your hands.” As her son ran off, she thrust a family-size jar of mayonnaise at Jesse. “I can’t get the lid off.”
“Con, I gave you one of those thingamajigs.”
“I can’t find it. ’Sides, it’s easier to ask you.” She flashed him a dazzling smile and handed him the jar.
“Glad I’m good for something.” He twisted the lid off, his blisters making him wince, and handed the jar back. “Mayo doesn’t belong on hamburgers.”
“I like it.”
“Just don’t make me eat it.”
She went back into the kitchen, and Jesse sat down at the red-top table they’d picked up at the Salvation Army thrift shop. Though he’d had a burger for lunch, these would be better. She’d spread out all the fixings. Ketchup and mustard, tomatoes, lettuce, raw onions. He looked at the onions. Hell, why not? It wasn’t like he had a hot date.
Hot. He sure as hell had been hot today, and not just from the sun and exertion . . .
He closed his eyes for a moment . . .
Remembered slugging down that cold soda, then looking at Maura Mahoney’s face and heating up all over again ...
Tiny beads of sweat had pearled on her forehead. Before now, he’d have bet she was too cool a cucumber to ever break a sweat . . .
Was it that hot in the courtyard or did it have something to do with him?
He reached out a finger and swiped it across her forehead, then put it in his mouth, sucking her sweat, tasting the salty tang of her.
Those stunning eyes widened and she gave a tiny gasp.
When he took his finger from his mouth, she reached for his hand. She brought it to her own lush, ripe mouth. Her eyes never leaving his, she took his finger into that sexy mouth, a little bit at a time. Her lips were soft, but they circled him firmly. The inside of her mouth was a hot, warm sheath, enveloping him. She sucked gently, swirling her tongue around his finger. Then she increased the pressure, moving up his finger then down again.
Fucking his finger.
His hard-on craved the touch of her lips and tongue. Wanted her to fuck his dick rather than his finger.
He groaned and felt her lips smile against his finger. She knew she was torturing him. Maura Mahoney, a seductress who could make him come just from sucking on his finger.
She scraped her teeth gently against his sensitive flesh, he groaned again, and she said . . .
“Jesse, what’s wrong?”
No, what the fuck? That was Consuela’s voice. His eyes flew open and he gaped up at his friend. “Huh?”
“You groaned and had this weird expression on your face. Have you got a stomachache?”
Hurriedly, he shoved his chair farther under the table. If Con glanced at his lap, she’d have no trouble figuring out his problem. “Sore muscles. I worked hard today, over at that seniors place.”
“Then you’ll be ready for a good meal, hon.” She bent and kissed the top of his head. Her breasts—gorgeous, voluptuous ones—were about two inches from his face, but he had no desire to touch them. Con was his buddy. Even though she was most definitely a babe, there’d never been an attraction between them.
Attraction was an odd thing. He and Consuela would be perfect together, and he was just plain crazy about Juanito. But he could no more imagine going to bed with Con than . . . than he could stop imagining touching Maura Mahoney. Having her touch him.
He stifled a groan, relieved when Juanito came and took his seat, and they all began to slather the top halves of their hamburger buns with their favorite combination. He and the boy competed to see who could draw the coolest picture in ketchup and mustard. It was a tradition.
He wondered what the classy Ms. Mahoney was doing tonight. Did she ever eat hamburgers? She was probably into that fancy stuff like truffles and caviar.
Having constructed the perfect burger, he opened wide to take the first bite. And thought of Maura opening those sexy lips wide, wider. But it wasn’t a hamburger she was opening wide for . . .
“Jesse?”
He bit down hard. Into bun, meat, and his own finger. “Bloody hell!”
Con shot him a warning look. “Sorry,” he muttered. He inspected his finger and decided he’d live, then forced his mind back to present company. He took another bite and smiled at Juanito. “Hey dude, we did a mean job on these. They’re way better than Mickey D’s.”
“They’re even better with mayo,” Con teased.
Once they’d all taken those first few bites to ward off starvation, she said, “Tell us about the seniors place, Jesse. This was the big first day, right? Your, uh, new part-time job.” They hadn’t told her son about the assault charge against Jesse, nor his community service. “How did it go?”
“Okay. They’ve got me cleaning up a rundown garden.”
“Great! You’re good at that stuff.”
“Thanks.” He liked how Consuela focused on the positive. She didn’t know that he couldn’t read properly—he was real good at hiding that—but she did know he wasn’t exactly the intellectual type. Yet she never dumped on him for dropping out of school, just gave him credit for the things he was good at.
“What are the people like at this Cherry Lane place?” she asked.
He wasn’t going to tell her about Maura Mahoney, because Con picked up on stuff. “I’ve met a few of the seniors and they’re pretty cool.”
“Seniors?” Juanito asked. “Like, old people?”
“Yeah, pretty old. And pretty smart. And kind of lonely, too.”
Con nodded. “That’s sad.”
“How come I don’t know any old people?” her son asked.
She bit her lip. “We’ve talked about this. Some kids have grandparents and aunts and uncles, and some don’t. We’re just this itty bitty family, you and me.” She glanced across the table. “And Jesse.”
“But he’s not old.”
“Thanks,” Jesse said. “Now, you figure you got room for another burger?”
Consuela shot him a relieved glance.
The issue of relatives was sensitive. Her stepdad had been an abuser and, when Con’s boyfriend Rico knocked her up in twelfth grade, she’d decided things had to change. She said she never wanted to see her abusive stepdad again, and that her mom had to choose between them. Her mom called her an ungrateful little bitch. Con left home and moved in with a girlfriend’s family, and a few months later her mom and stepdad moved away. As for Juanito’s father, Rico had been another jerk, another abuser. Best thing he’d done was leave Con when she told him she was pregnant. He’d probably never told his parents he had a kid, and Con hadn’t, either.
She was pretty smart about most things, but not when it came to men. She kept picking losers, men like her stepdad, Rico, and that supreme asshole Pollan. That thing she did, seeing the best in people, sometimes got her into trouble.
After the three of them polished off the burgers, he and Consuela tidied up while Juanito went to change into pajamas. They took bowls of fruit salad over ice cream into the living room and started watching a
Spy Kids
movie on DVD. Jesse sprawled in the big chair with Juanito on the floor leaning against him. Consuela took the couch, half watching the show as she painted her fingernails and toenails a bright pinky-red.
Spy Kids
movie on DVD. Jesse sprawled in the big chair with Juanito on the floor leaning against him. Consuela took the couch, half watching the show as she painted her fingernails and toenails a bright pinky-red.
It was homey, which Jesse liked a lot. He’d never had much of that as a kid. Still, it was kind of weird, a twenty-seven-year-old guy spending his Saturday nights this way.
He hadn’t been dating much, not since he’d beaten up Pollan. Con, with her ex out of her life—hopefully forever this time—was relieved but edgy. It was taking her a while to sort herself out. She said hanging out with Jesse kept her from doing something stupid. It worked for him; he hadn’t met a gal who turned his crank in quite a while. Not until today. And his
crank
knew better than to mess with the likes of Maura Mahoney.
crank
knew better than to mess with the likes of Maura Mahoney.
He tried to imagine her here in this living room. She’d think Con looked trashy, she’d notice the ice cream Juanito had dribbled on his PJ top, and she’d itch to turn the TV off. As for Jesse, she’d see him for exactly what he was: a big dumb lunk of a physical laborer.
Why the hell was he picturing Maura in this living room? If he was going to bring any woman here, it’d be someone like that pretty redhead, Gracie.
“Okay, kiddo,” Con’s voice broke into his thoughts as she spoke to her son. “That’s your hour of TV. Go brush your teeth and hop into bed.” She stopped the DVD.
“It’s Saturday,” Juanito protested.
“Yup, and that’s why you got to stay up this late.”
Grumbling, the boy got to his feet and trudged away.
Consuela took the ice cream bowls into the kitchen.
Yeah, homey was good, and there was a part of Jesse that wanted a home and family of his own. He’d never had those things, and it was his own damned fault. He’d always screwed things up, been the dummy, the troublemaker. Yeah, he was older now, but did that mean he’d do any better? So far, he hadn’t met a woman who made him want to try. He didn’t think Gracie’d be the one, but the two of them could have some fun.
“Need any help?” he called to Con.
“Nah, I’m good.”
He hunted through the magazines on the coffee table, wondering if that Victoria’s Secret one was still there. Nope. Probably a good thing. A copy of
National Geographic
reminded him of one of the foster families he’d lived with. They’d encouraged the kids to read it. It was supposed to be educational. Jesse, twelve, had been the oldest. He’d grab the magazine first and look for photos of women with bare boobs, then check out the rest of the pictures. There were some cool things, like shots of space capsules and outer space, photographs taken undersea. It really burned him that his foster brother and sister, who were only eight and nine, could read the damned stories.
National Geographic
reminded him of one of the foster families he’d lived with. They’d encouraged the kids to read it. It was supposed to be educational. Jesse, twelve, had been the oldest. He’d grab the magazine first and look for photos of women with bare boobs, then check out the rest of the pictures. There were some cool things, like shots of space capsules and outer space, photographs taken undersea. It really burned him that his foster brother and sister, who were only eight and nine, could read the damned stories.
It hurt more when they figured out he couldn’t, and called him “dummy.” Bad enough he got that crap at school; it sucked to get it at home.
He slapped the magazine down on the table. What kind of idiot got to be twenty-seven without knowing how to read?
A moment later, Juanito called, “Jesse, I’m in bed. Come read me a story.”
Jeez, was the kid a mind reader? Jesse wandered into the bedroom the boy shared with his mother. Juanito, propped up on pillows in the twin bed by the window, handed Jesse a book.
Recognizing the kid with big glasses, Jesse knew it was a Harry Potter. When Juanito had been little and his books were the kind with big pictures and only five or ten large-print words on a page, Jesse’d read to him. Too bad the boy had graduated to big-kid books. The sight of all those letters jumbled up on the page gave Jesse a headache. “Nah, I’d rather tell you a story.”
“Dude, your stories are so cool. Tell me about Robo Kid.”
Robo Kid was a character Jesse had made up, who was half human and half android. He spent his nights fighting bad guys and aliens and vampires, and his days pretending he was a normal kid.
Jesse spun another adventure and Juanito listened raptly. Then Jesse whacked the little guy on the shoulder and said good night.
In the living room, Con flicked the television off. “I’m gonna go kiss Juanito good night, but then can I talk to you, Jesse?”
“Sure.” He wandered out to the kitchen and screwed the top off one of the beers he’d brought. He came back and settled into his chair.
When she returned and took her own chair, he asked, “What’s up?”
“I met this guy.”
“Yeah?”
“At the coffee shop at the mall where I work. He’s just got a job at the transmission place.” Consuela worked at a beauty salon in a strip mall. “He seems nice.”
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