Her Alpha Saviors [The Hot Millionaires #2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (8 page)

He put his wallet, phone, and a couple of other essentials in his pocket and headed for the door, locking it behind him. If Hannah started her rounds early, he didn’t want her to come across this devastation unprepared.

Jay slipped through the kitchen to the back door. It was locked but not bolted. He tutted when he noticed the key on a hook right next to it. Besides being the first place that any self-respecting burglar would look, it also happened to be perfectly visible to anyone looking in through the window. He let himself out, locked the door behind him, and slipped up the external staircase to Skye’s flat. Good, the lights were still on. He tapped at the door, feeling inexplicably nervous as he waited for her to respond.

“Who is it?”

“Jay. Let me in.”

“What do you want?” A long pause. “It’s late.”

“Something’s happened. I need to talk to you.”

The urgency in his tone must have communicated itself. “Just a moment.”

A full two minutes went by before she pulled the door open, wearing an ugly dressing gown that swamped her. It had to be a man’s, and Jay was hit by a crushing surge of jealousy. Perhaps she actually had a man in here with her, which would explain the delay in opening the door. He hadn’t stopped to consider that possibility. He glanced lower, not sure what he expected to find, and noticed that she wore thick socks. Not the sexiest footwear he’d ever seen on a woman but insufficient to deter him, if that was her intention.

“Can I come in?”

She was staring directly at his bare chest as though she’d never seen a half-dressed man before and didn’t appear to hear the question.

“Skye, it’s kinda cold out here.”

“Perhaps you should have worn some clothes then,” she said, pulling the door open and standing back to let him in. “Besides, it’s not much warmer in here.”

He stepped over the threshold and immediately understood what she meant.

“Don’t you have central heating up here?” he asked, wrapping his arms round his torso and jumping from foot to foot to get his circulation going. Not his preferred method but first things first.

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously not.”

“What are you doing still up?” He glanced at the papers spread all over the table.

“What are you, my mother?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “None of my business, I guess.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” She sighed. “If you must know, I’m putting the finishing touches to the presentation I thought I’d be making to you and Luke tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d have gotten that covered by now.” He glanced at her scowling features and waved a hand in apology. “Sorry again, that was a stupid thing to say. I realize there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

“Yes well, you’re right. I should have done it before now. It’s just that—” She dropped her gaze and noticed the piece of paper clutched in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Sorry to add to your burden, but it was attached to a rock someone just threw through my bedroom window.”

“What! Are you all right?” She screwed up her eyes and examined him critically. “You could have been hurt.”

“I would certainly have been showered with glass if I’d been in bed. Fortunately I was in the bathroom at the time.”

She fell heavily into a chair. “I don’t believe it. It’s one bloody thing after another. Who’d want to do such a thing?”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. Do you recognize this writing?”

“Let me see.” She grabbed the paper from his hand and looked at it for a long time. “Not really,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s printed in block capitals. It could have been written by anyone.”

“No, not anyone. It has to be someone who doesn’t want you to succeed here. Why else would they try to put me off?”

“But there isn’t anyone,” she said emphatically. “All the locals want to see The Fox
stay the way it is.”

Jay quirked a brow. “Do they?”

“Yes,” she said defensively. “Of course they do. Why, did someone say anything different to you tonight?”

“No, they all toed the party line.”

Her head snapped up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled. “No, of course you don’t. The only rebel was Sandy.”

“Ah yes, I noticed her zero in on you two.”

“She offered us a massage.”

Skye sniffed. “I’ll just bet she did!”

“Jealous, darlin’?”

“Don’t be stupid! Sandy wants us to make The Fox the same as the other modern pubs in the area. Jukeboxes, karaoke, live music.” Skye shuddered. “She just doesn’t get it. Oh, I know a good businesswoman is supposed to put the needs of the punters before her own wishes, but if things get that desperate then I think I’d hand the keys back to the bank myself.”

“It won’t, sweetheart. I’m with you on that one. This place has got history, atmosphere, and character by the bucketload. It’s everything I hoped it would be, and then some.”

Skye’s eyes flashed with astonishment. “It is?”

“Uh-huh. We just might be able to make something of it. From now on in, the only way is up.”

She inhaled sharply. “Don’t you dare get my hopes up if you don’t mean it!”

“Hey, it’s early days, but I’m not saying no.”

“And you’ve got nowhere to sleep. What am I thinking of?” Probably not the same thing that Jay was. “Let me get you a key to another room.”

“You need to think who in this village doesn’t like you, Skye,” he said, watching closely for her reaction. “You’ve not been completely honest with me about the things that went wrong here. They haven’t been accidents, have they? The cellar flood, for example. You’re on a rise in the ground here, and flood water doesn’t run uphill.”

“No, but it did rain solidly for days.”

“But water could only have gotten into the cellar if someone left those low windows open.” He looked her squarely in the eye, letting her know that he’d done his research. “Isn’t that what was decided at the time?”

“Yes,” she said with patent reluctance. “But it’s not what you’re thinking. It wasn’t sabotage. It was when Dad was still here. He did the cellar work, but his mind was already on the blink. We just thought he forgot to close the windows, that’s all.”

“We?”

“Peter and me. You saw him in the bar tonight. We were engaged once.”

“So I heard.” But Jay didn’t want to discuss Peter right now. “Okay, so you can’t say for sure that your father left the windows open. Was he in the habit of opening them when he worked in the cellar?”

“No, I suppose not. He didn’t usually anyway but, as I said, he’d started to do some odd things.”

“Well then, we can’t rule out the possibility that the windows were deliberately left open by someone else.” Jay ground his teeth as he thought of Peter Brown’s hungry expression every time he looked at Skye that evening—which was pretty much nonstop. “Someone who wants you under their control.”

“How can you say that when we don’t even know it was deliberate?”

“The blocked chimney was. So was—”

Jay abruptly stopped talking when he realized he’d lost Skye’s attention. He glanced at her and cursed himself for laying all this on her now, when she was obviously exhausted and at her lowest ebb. She’d folded her hands over her midriff and was leaning forward, rocking back and forth as tears ran in rivulets down her face.

“Skye.” He crouched in front of her, telling himself that he should have read the signs. She wasn’t as strong as she made out, but he hadn’t realized just how close to the edge she actually was. “What is it, honey? Hey come on, nothing’s that bad. We’ll sort it out.”

“Yes it is. It’s hopeless. I seem to take one step forward and two back every day in this place.” She lifted her tear-streaked face to his. “I stumble from one crisis to the next with no clear sense of purpose. Let’s face it. I’m not cut out to do this.”

Jay’s heart melted. He pulled Skye to her feet, sat down where she’d just been, and pulled her onto his lap. She landed there with a soft thud, as light and inconsequential as a feather. He wondered when she’d last eaten a decent meal. His compassion seemed to make matters worse. She leaned against his shoulder and sobbed fit to break her heart. Unsure what to do, Jay merely stroked her back, whispered soothing words, and waited for the storm to abate.

* * * *

All these months of struggle since her father went into care and Skye hadn’t once given way to tears, only to do so in front of this hunky stranger.
Lousy timing, babe!
She no longer cared what he thought of her because she badly needed the release this outpouring of grief, self-pity, whatever it was, afforded her. When the river of tears slowed to a trickle she sniffed but didn’t immediately remove her head from its comfortable perch on Jay’s broad shoulder.

And what a shoulder it was. When she’d opened the door to him earlier, she’d been transfixed by the sight of his taut muscular torso covered with a light dusting of dark hairs, his narrow waist, and the six-pack he obviously worked to maintain. Beefcake didn’t come any rarer than this. After a shaky start she thought he’d gotten a modicum of respect for her efforts, but now she’d made an idiot of herself by crying all over him, effectively putting paid to the slim hope she had of convincing him to help her.

“Better?” he asked gently.

“Sorry about that.” She fished in the pocket of her robe for a tissue, found a screwed-up one, and blew her nose.

“There’s no room for sentiment in business, Skye. You need to remember that.”

Her head shot up. “What do you mean?”

“Precisely what I say. A decent businessman doesn’t ever let his head rule his heart.”

“I see.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” She said the one word emphatically, convinced now that there was only one thing she wanted to do, and it sure as hell didn’t involve talking. She’d tried being a grown-up, sensible business woman and had achieved precisely nothing. He’d as good as told her that by revealing her weak underbelly she’d blown her chances of getting fiscal help from Jay, so she might as well have some fun with him instead. Fun had been in short supply in her life for many years and it was time to make up for lost time.

“Then what do you want to do?” His large hands stroked the back of her head.

“Kiss me, Jay. No strings. I won’t expect you to cut me any slack with the business. Hell, I know you’re not interested in investing. You’d be mad if you did. I just need to feel cherished right now.”

“Cherishing,” he said with a wolfish grin, “just happens to be my specialty.”

She just bet it was! For the first time since forever her draughty loft felt too warm, and she was tempted to shed her ratty robe. She resisted as Jay’s arms encompassed her body and drew her into a heart-stopping kiss. She responded dreamily, enjoying the feel of his tongue ravishing her mouth, impatient for other parts of his anatomy to ravish her in very different ways. When had she turned into such a slut? She neither knew nor cared as her body reacted with urgent need to the brutal passion beneath his kiss.

“You’re too rigid,” he said softly when he broke the kiss. “What you need is a massage. Not administered by the obliging Sandy, but by yours truly.”

“You know how to massage, as well as everything else.” She tilted her head and shot him a challenging look from beneath lowered lashes. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

His chuckle was decidedly wicked, full of masculine self-confidence that fell short of arrogance by the merest whisker. “You’d better hope not, baby.”

He carried her to the large bed on the far side of the loft and deposited her on it. Before she could move, he unfastened the robe and pushed it off her shoulders. She wore a tank top and boxers beneath it, which appeared to meet with his approval.

“Much better,” he said, his eyes roving over her body and lingering on her nipples, rock hard and pushing against the thin fabric of the tank top. “Now, lay on your front before I forget what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

Skye did as he asked, closing her eyes and groaning with pleasure when his large hands worked on the knots in her shoulder blades.

“We ought to use massage oil. I don’t suppose you have any?”

“Afraid not.”

“Never mind, we’ll have to improvise. How does that feel?”

“Hmm, wonderful.”

His hands circled her aching muscles, digging deep and gradually easing the tangles out of them.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“I once dated a masseuse.”

Skye nodded. “Figures.”

“I wish you could see yourself,” he said softly, pushing the thin straps from her shoulders and working his way lower. “You look so erotic laying there in your prim shorts and silly top. Your hair’s cascading all over the pillow. Did I tell you that I love your hair, by the way?”

“You must have forgotten to mention it.”

“Looking at you gives me a real hard-on.”

Her laughter was muffled by the bedclothes, so hopefully he didn’t hear the note of triumph in it. His inflated ego didn’t need any help from her. “What doesn’t?”